Daughter of Númenor
by Sheila51
Summary: A ranger seeks her destiny from the woods of Lothlorien to the Battle of Helm's Deep as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set mostly during FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU Follows Book timeline, but Movie plot etc. Haldir/OC
1. Prologue: Two Paths

**Daughter of Numenor**

* * *

Overview: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: It has been a very long time since I wrote anything, but this evil little plot bunny just wouldn't go away! So I decided to give it a shot, its probably rubbish, but I feel better for having started to let it out. If you read please please review! All feedback is appreciated – except flames of course!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except my own demented plot bunnies!

* * *

Prologue: Two Paths

Late afternoon sunlight shimmered on the waters of the Anduin which flowed swiftly through the forested crags towards the falls of Rauros, eight days ride behind them lay the Argonath, the great carvings standing proud against the sky. Anária had felt her breath stop for a moment as she had gazed upon her people's kindred, their great stone bodies still standing even now.

The brief glimpse of the River Anduin as they passed along a rocky ledge in the forest was breathtaking. The opposite bank lifted up in great cliffs and mountains, etched grey in the afternoon sunlight. She twisted around to look behind her, in the far distance the pillar of Tol Brandir, the island at the Falls of Rauros was fading, barely visible even to her sharp eyes. Legend said that none had ever set foot upon the island as there was no chance of successfully navigating the strong currents that were formed by the great waterfall.

"We will reach the Anduin by nightfall." She looked over at her brother Anádor and realised that they had both halted their horses on the rise. She nodded. "I think tonight we should only camp a few hours and then move on after the moon rises." Briefly she considered his words, her brow furrowing.

"Then we should walk until dark, make camp, and then begin again after a few hours rest." He agreed with a brief nod. They dismounted, leading their horses and moving steadily forwards on foot. The pull that Anária was sensing that drew her north would not ease nor slow, it was like a throbbing headache. It dulled the world slightly, drawing her forwards.

They continued down the forested hillside in silence, leading their horses carefully. "We should have heard word by now. Aragorn must have passed through the Misty Mountains." Anádor was silent. His worry evident in his silence. It had been late summer when Aragorn, their Chieftain had sent them east. Their instructions had been vague, a score of the Dúnedain had travelled over the mountains in late summer, spreading out discreetly over the lands of Rohan, Gondor and even into the dark lands, to watch, gather information and await the command of the Chieftain of the Dunedain.

However only Anádor and Anária, his mother's kin, were told that he believed he himself would soon be journeying east again, and possibly in a company. For days now Anária had felt a strange urgency, drawing her up the Anduin. The blood of the Dúnedain carried with it the power of foresight. Anária felt certain it was this that pulled her upstream.

For a brief time when they had camped at Parth Galen she had felt doubt, as though two paths stood before her. Long into the night she had sat and stared into the campfire, until it was ash. But as dawn broke she knew in her heart which way she must turn. She had not sensed any detail of the paths which lay before her, only a hazy sense of feelings out of any context;: tragedy, joy, pain. The first would hold great relief, she sensed a reunioun, but that path would lead to great suffering to others in the future, and a sense of guilt hung over it like the scent of death over a terrible battlefield. The other was a darker path, with great trial but also of great reward. And a sense of completion which was only just tangible, it was a possible conclusion of the path – but not certain in any way.

As Anádor had reminded her quietly, the path of the ranger was never an easy one. And so with trepidation she had taken the path which had felt to her to lead to greater personal tragedy and suffering. She felt the oncoming path as an oncoming doom, bringing with it untold hardships and loss, great loss. She feared that loss would be of loved ones, but gently her brother had told her that she should put aside those feelings and cling to the hope of a better future. Surely, he asked, the sense - however intangible - of great peace and joy was a better outcome than a darkness in the distant future which seemed to cause great pain not only to her but to many others? Unspoken was his fear that doom she sensed in that future was the fall of Middle Earth. He had not needed to say that to her. For while she knew it was unlikely that her actions themselves might directly lead to such a fate, well she knew that each descision a person made was like a stone thrown into a pond - not even the wisest could forsee where all the waves would land, nor how they might impact other waves, from other pebbles.

She wondered breifly if her path might lead her back, over the mountains and into her peoples lands. She shivered. Would the hand of Mordor reach even there, was that where she sensed such loss and hardship? But that distant threat was not her only concern.

Another feeling had been growing, a sense of impending danger that was not distant but close. Both the last nights they had camped for only a few hours before rising and walking through the darkness, since the had crossed the river Limlight something seemed to be pressing in around them, as though they were being stalked.

Anária had always loved woodlands, but these ones seemed oppressive, as though something dark was nearby, just out of sight. Like a gathering storm on the horizon which is felt as much as seen. Anária paused, she felt a touch, like an icy hand on the back of her neck, something moved nearby in the forest, she lifted her eyes to the sky in time to see a flock of birds pass overhead, their warning cries piercing the afternoon air in a shrill cacophony. The siblings shared a glance. Moments later they had mounted their horses, urging them to a gallop over the treacherous ground as dark figures moved through the darkening woods in close pursuit...

* * *

Please review!


	2. Chapter 1: Warden of the Golden Wood

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you for reading my little story! Please review at the bottom! All reviews are welcome.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing, all the creation of the god-amongst-writers, the one and only JRR Tolkein.

Reviews: Thank you Opera14 for reviewing! Here is the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 1: Warden of the Golden Wood

Haldir stood upon the branch of a young mellorn tree, gazing through the forest towards the borders of the realm of Lórien, where the golden trees of Lothlórien grew slimmer than in the deeper woods, and where for some time now dark creatures had dared to come, creeping into the woods under the cover of darkness. But at that moment his eyes did not scour the shadows for creeping orcs, rather he concentrated on listening.

He could hear a horse's hoof beats echoing through the pre-dawn gloom. Haldir cocked his head; he could hear fatigue, and possibly an injury to the animal in the uneven rhythm of the horses gait. The heavy thump of the hooves told him its burden was heavy, perhaps more than one rider. He moved swiftly down the mellorn's branch, moving through the larger branches until the trees were too slim and young to be moved amongst. He swung himself carefully to the floor of the forest, around him he glimpsed the slight movements that indicated his wardens were moving into place with him.

It was not however the sound of the horse's hooves that made the elves finger their bows and draw arrows from his quiver. Yet another guttural cry pierced the otherwise quiet air of the wood. Somewhere behind the flagging horse came a party of orcs. An answering screech responded to the first. Haldir turned his head, it came from a little distance to the right of the first.

Haldir raised his hand, signalling his wardens. He could hear the horse stumbling now, its rider's voice urging it onwards in words just beyond his hearing. He raised his hands, motioning more orders to his wardens. He needed no response to know that closest archers would have seen the signal and would relay it to the others who further on. The horse was close now, less than a hundred metres, ahead a small clearing had formed in the forest, with a small rocky creek running through it. He moved forwards, he could hear the animal's steps being guided in the direction of the clearing.

Haldir paused suddenly. He realised with a moments trepidation that since having heard the horses hooves the first time it had moved unerringly to follow his own movements towards it. He sensed more than saw his warden's pause with him. He shrugged off the oddity with a flick of his head and continued forwards.

He took up his position behind a young mellorn tree, relying on his elven made clothing and the pre-dawn gloom's dark shadows to hide him from whomever approached – at least until he choose to reveal himself. He could hear the orcs drawing closer, they were gaining on the horse, the animal barely even cantering, he could hear it's harsh breathing, the sounds of an animal in extreme distress.

He saw the horse and riders come into view following the path of the small rocky stream. At any moment he sensed the horse could misstep on the creek bank and plunge the riders to the ground. But he also knew that following the streams path for several hundred metres lead almost straight to the clearing ahead. The orcs were too close now, they had breached Lothlóriens borders when they had began down the streams path.

As he feared the horse was barely moving forwards. Haldir took a brief moment to appraise the riders. Humans both, dark haired and clothed in dark greens and browns. Forest wear. Something about made him think back to two days before, to the departure of the Fellowship of the ring from Calas Galadhorn. But he had no time to ponder this as he drew back his bow he could see the orcs now, they were running through the woods at quite a pace, some almost upright, others almost gambolling on all fours.

* * *

Anária could feel the orcs presence behind her, for three days the creatures had tracked them up the Anduin. The two rangers had continued through both day and night, Anária walking as much as possible to spare their one remaining horse. The other had been lost when an advance party of a score of Orcs had ambushed them at dusk two nights earlier. Anária knew instinctively that the clearing was her destination, she had no map as that had been lost during the attack, as had her bow. The worst of the attack however had been the terrible wounds her brother had received in the ambush.

A terrible blow to his side and an arrow to the leg meant he had to remain on the horse most of the way, she had managed to quickly cauterise and bandage both wounds, but a terrible dread grew within her each passing hour, that he was fading too quickly and their journey was too slow. Even with his wounds he had managed to walk part of the distance each day. Even though it had weakened him terribly it had been necessary, the horse would have been finished at dusk the night before without those hours of rest.

Even now Anária could feel the horse failing, its steps uncertain, any minute now it might stumble and fall. She felt deep regret for the animal beneath her; she doubted her faithful horse Bregod would ever again be as fleet of foot as he had been when he was named. She loosened one hand off her grip on the reins to check the short length of strap she had used to bind his hands together around her waist.

Anária was peering into the shadows ahead as each one could hide another ambush, and so she never saw nor heard the arrow that whistled through the darkness behind her until it struck her brother, she felt the jolt forwards, as did the horse, which stumbled. Anária felt the world spin as the horse fell; a terrible crack of breaking bone shuddered through the animal as it cried out, a terrible scream of fear and pain. Anária released the reins completely, and kicked her feet back to release them from the stirrups. Gripping her brothers arms she attempted to roll from the falling horse's back onto the forest floor before she could be flung, possibly into the rocky creek bed by the horses fall. For one long moment the world tipped upside down and then the forest floor came up to meet her.

* * *

Haldir had seen the arrow, and as it was released he shot his own, the arrow landing exactly where he had aimed it, into the neck of the bow wielding orc. Suddenly the forest around him was alive with the sound of bow fire, and soon with the sound of clashing swords and shields. He saw the two humans tumble from the horse, but he had no time to spare for them or their animal. His men were rushing forwards from the tree line. As he steadied his aim on another orc, he saw the smaller human manage to pull themself to their feet.

Detachedly he noted the slight but muscular stature, and the faint roundness to the body which implied the rider was female as he released yet another arrow. And more than that he noted absently, she had managed to pull two short blades and was positioning herself over her fallen comrade. Haldir moved quickly from the line of the trees, but the orcs were everywhere, battle raged through the clearing and beyond, an orc reared into his field of vision. Smoothly h released the arrow almost point blank into its face. Swiftly he moved forwards into the clearing, dodging between his wardens and the orcs who were throwing themselves at them.

He did not see the second black fletched arrow that came out of the darkness, this one stricking the woman in the shoulder, he did however hear her cry out. As she fell to her knees he saw an orc leap forwards, its eyes glittering as it moved to take advantage of her wound and fatigue. Smoothly he shot it through the eye.

With not a little astonishment he saw the small rider rear up yet again as another orc moved forwards, Haldir momentarily lost sight of the figure as he was confronted with two more orcs leaping over an injured or dead warden. He slipped his bow back onto his back and drew his sword in one smooth motion, leaping forwards to meet his attackers rather than wait for them to come to ho him. Two parries, a thrust and swing latter the two orcs were dead.

He twisted back towards the riders, he was only a dozen paces away as the woman viciously cut into a orc with one short blade. The other had been dropped, in the gloom his elven sight easily picked out the arrow which pierced her left shoulder. He was able to close the gap to where she stood without further incident, replacing his sword he freed his bow and picked off two more orcs as they left the tree line. As he drew level with the female he paused a brief moment to look at her, she flicked her eyes towards him, her face was pale and clenched with pain. He nodded briefly to her and moved to stand before her. His men had gained the upper hand in the battle, the tide had been turned and the orcs were now fleeing, their terrible screeches and cries echoing through the forest as they beat a hasty retreat from the oncoming wardens.

Haldir shot one final arrow, hitting a running orc in the back. He saw it trip and stumble, and then lie still. He turned back just as the woman knelt, her hand still clasped her short sword, the other bloodied arm rested across her thigh as she knelt. Most of his wardens had moved forwards, ensuring that the orcs were in full retreat, and that none would be left within the shelter of Lothlórien come dawn.

A second group of elves were now moving into the surrounding woodlands, they moved amongst the dead and dying. Quickly and mercifully ending the lives of any orcs not yet dead and checking over their wounded and fallen comrades. As the sounds of battle faded Haldir allowed a brief to twist his lips. The orcs were routed this night, but this had not been a true invasion of the Golden Wood. This had been a party chasing down two fugitives who had happened to flee into his forest.

One day soon Galadriel said a true force would assault Lothlórien, just as a force would soon move the last holdouts of men in Rohan and Gondor. Assured that the battle had moved on he forced himself to return to the present, where a soft whimpering made him turn his regard to the cause of the orcish intrusion. The woman was moving, crawling towards the other who lay where he had been thrown from the horse. Two of his wardens had quieted the beast and he could hear their low discussion as to the best course in dealing with the animal.

He looked up as one of the healers paused in his approach to the two humans. Haldir nodded briefly, giving permission for the healer to examine the male human. Haldir moved quickly forwards. He doubted the fighting would return to the clearing as dawn was not far off and the orcs would wish to shelter in the foothills than be within the woods come daylight. He moved forwards and knelt next to the woman. She looked at him, she had propped herself on her good arm, her hand still gripping her blade.

He reached for her blade, but she shook her head, attempting to free the arm. He looked at her eyes, in the darkness he could see the pain and fear in them. She was badly wounded. She was not rational, she was looking at him but he sensed she did not truly see him.

"Be calmed," he said quietly in Westron. She tilted her head slightly, frowning at his words. "You are in Lothlórien, no harm shall come to you here daughter of men."

She swallowed and nodded slightly, seemingly attempting to hold back the pain which must be washing over her. He could see the tracks tears of pain had made on her face. Gently he eased her blade from her fingers, carefully taking some of her weight.

"My brother." She said, her voice barely a whisper, her head motioning to the other human. Two of the healers were at that moment gently examining the unconscious human. He glanced past her. One of the wardens gave a brief signal. There was little hope for the other human. Haldir kept his features expressionless as he met the young woman eyes again.

Her eyes looked into his, an unspoken question to which he felt she already knew the answer as one of the healers moved around to behind the young woman.

"He is being cared for, but now we must look to your wounds." he told her gently, she closed her eyes in acknowledgement. He moved his hands, helping the healer move her to lying on the other side from her wounded shoulder. As gentle as they were he heard her hiss in pain. The healer held a small potion bottle to her lips. Gently he placed a little on her lips. Within just moments Haldir felt her muscles relax. Her eyes fluttered closed.

The Marchwarden took a deep breath as he stood, placing the human in the care of the healer who used a small knife to clear the leather of her tunic from around her wounded shoulder. Having applied an ointment to the wound he rolled her onto her back. His hands fluttering from pulse to check for any other wounds. Haldir looked down as the first light of dawn illuminated the fair features of the young woman. Dark brows arched over her closed eyes, her nose was straight and long, aristocratic almost, a full mouth with a firm jaw line completed a face that suddenly to his eyes did not quite human.

He glanced at the sword he had placed on the ground, taking in the shape of the weapon. He frowned, he had seen a blade like that somewhere recently. He leaned down, lifting the blade from the earth he moved away, fingering the fine edge. It was of elven make! He had seen another blade of this kind recently, the Dúnedain Aragorn had carried a similar style of blade. Made by Elven kind over the mountains, from the realm of Imladris if he was mistaken.

He turned back, she was not just a daughter of men, she was one of the Dúnedain, a daughter of Númenor.

* * *

~Please Review~


	3. Chapter 2: Caras Galadhon

Daughter of Númenor

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you for reading, and to the person who added this story to their favourites! Please please review. You have no idea how great it is to read peoples thoughts about my writing, or the story, or anything really!

Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my little plot bunnies) – the creation of the one and only JRR Tolkein!

Reviews: Thank you Opera14 for reviewing.

* * *

Chapter 2: Caras Galadhon

* * *

Anária could feel hands, soft and gentle on the skin of her arm, but her shoulder felt numb. She was dimly aware of voices speaking the elvish tongue, but the accent was so different to any she had heard before that she could not understand every word they spoke.

"… is broken. She … lucky." Another voice responded but she did not catch the soft words. The voice nearer her spoke again, this  
time she caught more of the words as she adjusted to the accent. She was with elves! Surely that meant she was safe. It was struggle to  
remember what had happened.

"The draught will wear off soon Marchwarden, do you wish us to administer more?" Once more the reply was too soft for her to hear,  
she tried to move but found that her limbs were leaden. She tried to remember where she had been and what she had been doing but it was too difficult, darkness was closing in her senses again. She drifted away as a warm voice spoke just beyond her hearing, and then everything was silent once more.

Slowly she felt her senses return. She was warm, although a cool breeze was blowing over face, she could feel a soft cloth against  
her skin, hands moved, shifting the cloth, covering the arm and shoulder which had been cooled by the breeze. She became aware of a  
sickly sweet taste in her mouth, she tried to lick her lips, and found they also were sweet - and sticky. She remembered an elf placing a  
small vial against her lips, another had knelt beside her, his hands lowering her gently to the forest floor. She remembered seeing him earlier, as she had stood over Anádor he had come to stand next to her. Anádor!

Suddenly she remembered seeing him lying on the ground where he had fallen. She had struggled free of his arms to defend him as the orcs had attacked them. He had never made a noise, his eyes shut, his pallor deathly pale.

He had been shot again! She remembered now, the tumble from the horse, the short, bloody skirmish, the arrow to her shoulder, the tall elf who had come to stand beside her. Then collapsing in pain, being spoken to – in Westron – by the elf lord. She could see his face, the pale grey sky and golden trees framed a strong face, pale eyes, and long fair hair of the greater Eldar races. But more than anything she remembered the way Anádor had lain on the ground, his face so still, so pale.

She licked her lips again; struggling against what she now realized was a sleeping draught. She tried to move, to open her eyes. But the draught had been to strong, her eyelids would not obey her wishes! She heard more noises, someone was next to her.

"Be calm, drink." The voice was deep and resonant – and speaking westron! She felt his arm slide under her head, lifting it. She felt water on her lips, she gulped greedily. The water was sweet tasting and she was suddenly aware that she had not had anything to drink for some time. All too soon the water was gone. But it had refreshed her. She felt feeling returning to her body, although her left shoulder was still as numb as it had been. Her legs were aching, a dull pain that throbbed worst in her right knee, she grimaced and once more struggled to open her leaden lids.

Light was streaming through the trees, setting the world to green and gold above her. A pale figure interrupted the green and gold, golden hair became a silvery halo around his noble brow. She blinked. He was speaking again. " – you hear me?". She tried to speak but it seemed that was still beyond her so she managed a little jerk of the head instead. He inclined his own head. "Forgive us for drugging you, but your wounds needed to be tended." He paused. "And you seem to have needed your rest." She frowned, how long had she slept she wondered. Seeing her expression he smiled, it was the slightest upwards movement of his lips. "You have slept a whole day and night. And now it is morning again." It was that more than anything that stirred her to movement, she tried to sit. He moved quickly, his hand pressing on her right shoulder.

"Stay still, your shoulder is still badly wounded. Though you will be glad to know that once healed you should not lose any movement." She closed her eyes, that was good news but not the news she wished to hear. She licked her lips again, wondering if this time her voice would obey her command to speak.

"My lord." She had spoken, it was only a whisper, but strangely it made her feel instantly more tired. He leaned closer his face barely a foot from her own his eyebrow raised in enquiry. "My lord," she began again, "Anádor, my brother…" she had intended to say more but the thought of his pale still form quieted her whisper. He drew back, regarding her with an inscrutable expression. She felt sudden fear,  
the lack of expression spoke louder than any words. She felt her  
breath quicken, tears filled her eyes.  
"He lived when last I saw him." Her fear was replaced with consternation. He did not wait for her to ask but spoke quietly but calmly, not hurrying his words. "He was taken by litter to Caras Galadhon, my healers feared his condition was beyond their arts. And so he was taken to the Lord and Lady of Lòrien." He paused briefly. "As soon as you are judged fit to travel you too will be taken to the Lord and Lady. I believe you are expected there for you had not been with us an hour when word arrived from Lady Galadriel herself that you were to be brought to her as soon as possible." He continued to look at her, his silent regard was uncomfortable. It was as though he expected her to know why the Lady would send such a messenger.

She simply stared back, wondering if he had more to say. Finally he did speak again. "You are a daughter of Númenor." It was a statement, not a question but she nodded weakly anyway. "A ranger of the Dúnedain?" she nodded again. "Then perhaps you should know your Chieftain passed through these woods not five days ago."

* * *

Haldir watched her reaction carefully, her eyes widened in shock and surprise. If he was any judge she had not known that Aragorn had been at Lothlòrien. She was looking away from him now, he could see that even the few moments of conversation had weakened her. Her eyelids were beginning to droop. He turned to summon a healer. When he turned back she was looking at him again. "Water?" her voice was barely a whisper. He nodded and once more lifted a simple wooden bowl to her lips. She drank greedily, gulping it down. But he knew it was also important she did not drink too much at once. After a moment he pulled it away again, placing it back upon the flet. He reached into a hidden pocket of his tunic. From it he pulled a small sliver of lembas wrapped in a leaf, he held it to her lips and she let him slip it between them. She chewed it slowly, as though each movement was an effort.

Eventually she swallowed and he could see it had helped as she became brighter, turning her head to examine her surroundings. As she did he saw her eyes widen as for the first time she realized she was less than a metre from the edge of the flet. "We are not on the ground?" her voice too was stronger he noted.

"No we are not." He replied quietly. She looked back at him.

"How did you get me up here?" she asked frowning. He raised an eyebrow.

"We placed you in a sling of ropes and drew them up." She continued to frown, her blue eyes looked at him briefly before looking back at the forest. He saw the frown fade as she looked up through the branches of the mellorn trees. The lines of pain and weariness were fading as he watched. He wondered if it was just the lembas or whether something else was affecting the change in her demeanour. Within moments she gave him his answer.

"This wood. I have long desired to see the Golden Woods of Lórien for many years, but never did I dream…" she paused, as though  
to catch her breath. "… never did I imagine that it would be so beautiful." She sighed. He smiled slightly.

"You should rest now. We cannot set out until reinforcements arrive, and that will not be for some hours." He stood. "And then you  
will see the true beauty of Lórien, the city of Caras Galadhon." She nodded.

"Thank you my lord." He inclined his head.

"Call me Haldir." He offered.

"And I am Anária, Daughter of Anáthor and Belraen." Once more he nodded and acknowledgement, placing his hand over his heart.

"Rest now." She nodded, turning her face to gaze out into the leaves. Before he could move away her eyes had closed once more, her breathing became deep and even within moments. Haldir allowed his smile to widen slightly for a moment.

The journey to Caras Galadhon was slow, they left at dusk, despite her protests Haldir had her placed in one of the small wooden  
litters used to convey the wounded back to the city. It took the score of elves most of the night to reach the city. Despite her protests to  
the contrary Haldir noted that the young ranger was indeed so tired that she slept soundly through most of the journey. She awoke as they  
arrived in the city. He paused the litter and helped her out of it and and to her feet, carefully supporting her he helped her walk a few  
steps.

* * *

Anária barely noticed the Marchwarden's arm around the waist; his touch was feather light as she took her first few steps into the Elven city. She gazed up at the spiralling staircases that followed the enormous trees up and up, in the faint gold of early morning they shimmered with an iridescent glow unlike anything she had seen. She felt refreshed by the very sight of it. After a moment she carefully stepped away from the Elven lord's supporting arm, testing her wounded leg. She had twisted the knee in the fall from the horse. During the battle she had barely felt it, but it had swollen and become stiff causing her to limp.

Anária felt completely alien in this world of luminous beauty. Her travel stained ranger's garb had been cut open by the elven healers and then quickly patched back together. And though the Wardens had done their best to clean and repair them, her clothes were still dirty and dishevelled in comparison with the elves who moved around her. Haldir touched her arm lightly, propelling her forward; two elves clad all in white were moving towards them through the trees. Tall and regal was their bearing, it seemed to Anária that they were lit with their own inner light, especially the lady.

Anária needed no introductions; she knew the identity of those who approached her. Carefully she bowed, trying to move as little as  
possible to avoid aggravating her shoulder.

"Welcome, daughter of men." His voice was cool and melodious, he spoke in unaccented Westron. She raised her eyes. The lord Celeborn was regarding her with a gaze that was cool but somehow welcoming. He turned his eyes towards his companion and taking a steadying breath Anária came out of her bow and looked full into the face of Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien herself. If the lord Celeborn was handsome and fair his wife was doubly so, her face however was not cool nor calm, a smile played about her full mouth, a welcoming gleam shone in her eye.

Anária felt light headed as the Lady smiled full upon her. It was full of a warmth that caused Anária's spine to straighten further, she pulled herself up, the pains from her battles, flight and tumble melted under the warmth of the Lady's gaze.

'Anária'. The lady's mouth did not move. But she had heard her name! She felt a shudder run through her. "You are welcome to the land of Lórien child. The one whom you seek we have already seen, he passed this way not ten-day ago." Anária nodded, almost a bow. "But we will speak more of that later." Galadriel smiled again, but this smile was full of sorrow and compassion. "For now I believe you think only of your brother. Come, I will take you to him." The lady turned without another word, Anária followed after, but as she did she felt again the pain in her right knee and made a small noise, little more than a hiss of breath.

At that sound she found once more an arm wrap itself around her waist. Despite the incongruity in their heights the Marchwarden was able to gently take her weight in his arm, fixing her against his side and shortening his steps to accommodate hers. She a wave of gratitude for all that the Elven Lord had done for her. She knew he had watched over her more than he need have done. She would have to remember to make clear her gratitude for his efforts at her first opportunity.

* * *

Haldir was not at that moment concerned with the one whom he was assisting. Rather he was thinking of other things. He had received more than a request from the lady that he bring the younger ranger to Caras Galadhon. He had heard her in his mind. She had spoken with Elrond of Rivendell and they had agreed that the humans would not be able to stand alone, that the people's of middle earth must needs forge a new alliance. Already he had seen several Wardens who had briefly acknowledged him as they hurried on their way. They were preparing for the expedition which would be leaving by the following morning.

Soon he himself would have to organise his men, collect his heavy armour and rest in preparation for his journey. His mind was concerned with numbers of Wardens to take. Later he would have to attend a meeting with the Lord Celeborn on numbers and routes. Haldir understood from the Lady that the Wardens would be marching into the lands of the Rohirrim, to their ancient fortress at Helm's Deep.

The worry at the back of his mind though was how many he could take without weakening Lothlórien, he feared an assault upon his beloved home by Dol Guldor while he hand his men were absent. Therefore he would take only a small force, perhaps eleven or twelve-score wardens. It had been many many years since Elves had moved out of their forests in force to confront the enemy, and now with the alliance of the Two Towers and the growing power of darkness in the world Haldir felt reluctant. He would obey his Lady and Lord but he still felt the great danger and risk to his Wardens.

For the immortal Elves of Lothlórien death was a distant stranger, even amongst his Wardens in these dark times death was the rare exception. He had only lost one in the assault on the orcs following Anária and her brother, although a dozen had been wounded, two gravely.

At the thought of that battle his thoughts were drawn to the young woman whom he was assisting, they were now approaching the healing ward. Galadriel paused at the entrance, turning she looked Anária for a moment, her eyes then flicked briefly to her warden. He understood that gaze perfectly and as he drew equal with his lady he gently removed his arm from the young woman's waist, allowing the lady to take the young woman's arm gently. He bowed to his lady, spreading his arms to his sides as he bowed. He waited until they had disappeared within before straightening. To either side of the doorway two sentinels stood watch. He acknowledged them with a slight nod before moving to one side of the doorway.

After only a few moments he became aware of a soft sound coming from within the healing ward. It was the sound of someone softly sobbing, the hitched breath and gentle cries made Haldir's own breath catch. Unbidden he felt his eyes fill with tears. Somehow the softness of the sound made it all the sadder, screams and cries that would rend the air could be no sadder than those soft gentle sounds that spoke of a deep pain.

Haldir forced himself to breathe deeply, working to restore his usual serenity.

* * *

Anária felt the warm arm of the warden withdraw. Once more he had been a silent presence at her side as he had been walking next to her litter on the way to Caras Galadhon. Even as she slept she had sensed his silent presence. But now he was withdrawing. She tried to look at him but he had bowed as the Lady Galadriel took her arm. Her skin was cool against Anária's, gently she led Anária forwards, somehow it seemed her feet were no longer touching the ground, she felt the pain of her knee fade at the Lady's gentle touch.

As though in a dream she was lead into a white room, in the centre was a large bed with white gossamer sheets. Under those sheets was her brother. At the sight of him she felt her throat close, hot tears came spilling from her eyes as she saw they way he lay within those sheets. His cheeks were hollow and so pale that they seemed translucent. His chest barely seemed to move under the sheets. His eyes were sunken in dark pits, the scapes and scratches on his face – whether from the tumble from the horse or perhaps from tree branches during their dash through the forest she could not tell – were dark and bruised.

She did not need to ask the Lady Galadriel how her brother fared, for she could see for herself that he was barely alive, he was hovering upon the very edge of death. She could not help herself, her dears fell hot a fast. She moved forwards, leaving the Lady at the foot of the bed as she reached for her brother's face, his skin was warm still, but only just. She pulled back; he was too still, too cold.

The lady moved close to her side, her presence was a comfort, but too little to ease the knots in her stomach, or loosen the tightness in her throat. It was many long moments before she was able to still her sobs and even then she still felt fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

"Come, you are weary and must tend to yourself now." She nodded. There was little she could do here, her own healing skills were as nothing to those of the lady and her Elven healers she knew. She allowed the lady's gentle touch to lead her away, back out into the clearing beneath the flets and shimmering stairways of the City of the Golden Wood. The lady's arm dropped.

"Haldir will take you now. Rest my child, we will speak when you are refreshed." The lady smiled again, her blue eyes captured Anária's for a moment and that look once more refreshed her strength. The lady moved away as the Marchwarden returned, he stood looking down at her, his eyes were not so distant, there was a strange look in them as he regarded her.

"Come." He said softly at last, gently he took her arm, this time his touch was firm, as though he knew she needed something solid to hold onto as they walked. They walked through the forest-city to a winding staircase. The ache had returned to her knee, She made to pause for a moment as she regarded the stairs. The Marchwarden stopped and looked down at her.

His arm closed around her waist once more, he bent over and with one swift movement he had lifted her into his arms.

"Ahh! My Lord!" He regarded her quite calmly as she protested. Her face flushed, neither man nor elf had lifted her in such a way since she was a child!

"This is the swiftest way. I have a meeting to attend shortly and must see to your needs first." His tone was so reasonable she felt unable to protest. His arms held her comfortably, one around her waist, the other beneath her knees. He carried her high into the trees and across an arching bridge between trees. Set upon a wide bough and curving to the flank of the tree was a small dwelling, so cunningly constructed as to seem but an extension of the tree itself.

He carried her within, it was a small room, a library and sitting space with furniture of golden wood. It was simple and sparse the door had already been opened and within she saw two of the elves from the journey. He had introduced them briefly as his brothers, Rumil and Orophin.

Both Elven Lords seemed surprised, their eyes widened and the exchanged a glance as she came into the room, still carried by the Marchwarden. He barely acknowledged their presence as he moved through the room towards the trees trunk, up a small winding staircase he took her. She saw the two brothers continue to watch their progress over his shoulder, the arrow that rumil was fletching still held idly in his hand while Orophin's book lay forgotten on the table before him.

The turned around the tree and up onto another wide branch, another room led off here but Haldir passed it by continuing past another level until he reached the largest room at the top of the stairs.

He carried her within and set her upon her feet. She felt they had turned the circumference of the tree and so they had. The floor the stood upon she knew was the roof of the sitting room where the brothers sat below. The room was large and spacious, with one entire wall opening onto another flet high up in the forest.

White gossamer curtains shifted gently in the breeze. Haldir moved to that wall, he drew closed the doors, they folded in upon themselves. He drew thicker curtains from each side across the closed doors, leaving the room dim and still. He turned back towards her. Her heartbeat was uncomfortably loud, she thought that with his elven hearing he must surely be able to hear it in the enclosed space.

"Please," he began motioning to the bed before her. "Make yourself comfortable. I must leave you now, but my brothers will be below if you have need of anything summon them and they will provide whatever you require." She bowed, unsure of how to thank him. This was no guest room but the Marchwarden's own dwelling. She could see a se of golden armour standing in the corner, simple furniture of golden wood was set sparsely through the room. It was however undoubtedly a home. She felt an enormous feeling of gratitude that the Marchwarden would put his own home at her disposal, and not only that but his private quarters! Hi gratitude was again humbling and also made her feel more welcome than even the Lady of Lórien had made her feel.

"I thank you my lord, you are most kind." She struggled to find words to match his generosity but her inadequate words were rewarded with a smile, this one slightly more than his previous smile out in the woods. This one reached his eyes and the twinkled brightly for a moment. Glittering like stars refelected on still water, some feeling in them she could not discern, but it made her throat tighten momentarily.

"You are most welcome." Then he was moving back past her. He paused to close the door behind him and he was gone.

She looked around the room once more, noting the simple but elegant proportions, the way the furniture was all of a make, simple carved mellorn leaves set into the golden wood ran around the head of the bed, like the edge of the dresser and a tall mirror that stood in a corner, as though abandoned and unused. She moved over to it, examining her own reflection briefly. Her hair was knotted, her clothing torn and patched. It had never been of fine make, nor had she cared. But here, as always when she was amongst Elves she was left with a feeling of ungainliness.

She sighed and began to remove the outer layers of her clothing. The leather tunic and her boots, the breeches as well. Her shirt had once been a pale green, now it was tattered and stained with blood. Once shoulder had been replaced, a soft grey wool had been used to patch where she had been struck by the arrow. She moved to the bed, the sheets looked soft and inviting, with two plump pillows for her head. Gently she eased herself beneath them. Almost instantly she felt sleep begin to steal over her.

As she turned her head into the pillow, her lids closed, her breaths deepening she took another in, realising the bed upon which she lay had a sweet, warm smell to it. As she drifted away she wondered why that scent was so familiar, so comforting and just as she slipped into dreams she saw in her mind a smiling face, the eyes twinkling in amusement. In her sleep she smiled, her face pressing further into the warm pillow.

* * *

~Please Review!~


	4. Chapter 3: Prophecy of Elendil

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added this story to their favourites or story alerts! Your support/comments/suggestions are greatly appreciated!

Please note this was intended as one chapter but it is so long I decided to split it in two. The second half of this chapter should be up in the next day or so.

Also apologies for my inability to use Elvish properly, anyone who does know how and has any suggestions/corrections please let me know! I did however use all Sindarin words for anyone who was wondering!

Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my little plot bunnies) – Lord of the Rings is the creation of the one and only JRR Tolkien!

* * *

Chapter 3: Prophecy of Elendil

_There was a golden hill, great shafts of light came through the trees, they crowned the hill in golden splendour. Upon the hill grew golden flowers. 'I am dreaming. I know I am dreaming.' The hill was a grave. The rings of flowers were a final benediction of love from a world that mourned the passing of its brightest star. Past that hill, amongst great trees there his feet led him. The trees were whispering. _

_They are dying now, their splendour spent, they are filled with great sorrow, for the passing of their friends they mourn. As I pass they whisper to me. A gentle call. "Where have you gone? Oh why have you left us?" Their sorrows grasps at open wounds, at a pain as dark as night at midwinter. Once songs did ring through this valley, I pass a great fallen tree, a great forest giant its fall has dragged others with it. They have fallen haphazard upon each other, the fallen trees of Lothlórien… Like her fallen sons they pass unmourned in this new world. _

'_This is not my dream.'_

_The world has changed past all recognition, and I wander it alone, lost and waiting. She will return. She must return. It is impossible, it will not happen. And yet I believe it will. I pass over a hill, following an ancient trail long since reclaimed by the ferns and flowers. I paused once just here, where the trail widened. I watched her pass, as she did she smiled, it was a glowing night, the stars lit even the forest floor. _

_Ever in my heart it is thus I remember her, by starlight. Her dark brow circled round with silvery moonlight, her eyes glimmering in the dark. Her hair wet and plastered against her cheeks…_

_I cannot stop here any longer. I move on, the wood has changed, there are dead trees, white roots stick up from their fallen stumps, futile fingers clawing at the world. As he turned a corner he remembered a song once sang long ago._

_"O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day; _

_The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away."_

_It seemed to him this song was sung by the wavering trees, a warning and a lament. He came upon a place he knew, a rocky stream had passed here, but it had long since dried up, thick weeds now grew, small yellow flowers were choked by them where once they had reined alone amidst the great trees of the Golden Wood one of whom now lay upon his chosen place..._

_Another fallen creature of the ancient world. Soon creatures from the outside world would no longer fear this forest, its magic was falling away, he could not protect it any longer, already they walked into the edges of the forest, taking timber from the once mighty trees. He could not stay, he could not leave, there was no place left for him. She was not coming._

_He could see her now, that last night, "Im teli-an le! Darth-an nin!"* And he had. Too long he had tarried as the stars turned and all those he knew had gone, until everything but her had faded from his memory; but still she had not come!_

_Now he would choose his fate, he would follow her, he would go to her… He lay down upon the fallen mellorn, his chosen bier, he crossed his wrists and looked up to the glittering sky above, slowly they began to fade one by one… _

'_This is a dream! This is not my dream…'_

_*I'll come for you! Wait for me!_

* * *

Haldir returned to his home to find the sitting room empty. He frowned, he had asked at least one of his brothers to remain in case Anária had need of any assistance, and it was unlikely that either would have retired to rest during the day, they were both far too energetic for that. He could hear hushed voices from above his head, swiftly he mounted the stairs, his brothers stood upon the landing outside the carved door to his chamber in hushed conversation.

"He _na-_lór."* Rumil was saying quietly in Sindarin

"If so then it is not a peaceful dream." Replied Orophin in the same language.

"What is wrong?" Asked Haldir, neither of his brothers looked surprised to see him, they had heard him come in.

"She is dreaming." Said Rumil. "We came because we heard her moving around, she is thrashing in the bed, she speaks occasionally but mostly in westron." The two brothers then shared a look. Haldir looked from one to the other.

"And what else?" he asked when neither seemed capable of speech.

"She also spoke in Sindarin." He waitied as Rumil looked once more at Orophin who seemed uninclined to add to his brothers words.

"She said: 'Im lorna! Hi na-oltho! O ho beleth!'"** Haldir felt a momentary concern at Rumil's words, which he could see both his brothers shared. Beleth could mean fading as in the fading of light or hope. But it could also mean the fading away of life, death. Its double meaning for a moment gave him pause. For a moment he considered waking her, but she needed rest and even troubled rest was still rest.

"Perhaps she dreams of her brother?" suggested Orophin after a moment, Haldir nodded absently. He felt something to be wrong and yet that was the logical conclusion. Perhaps she re-lived the terror of her flight and battles with the Elves. She had said she was 24 years of age, if she were Elven she would not be even a fourth of the way to being truly mature. It was strange to think of such youth, he had not been that young for more than an Age. And yet to have troubled dreams in Lórien was rare indeed!

After careful consideration he motioned to his brothers and the three returned downstairs.

"What plans have been made brother?" asked Orophin as they returned below. Haldir took a moment to answer, as he knew the answer he would give would please neither.

"I will leave with a large force at dawn tomorrow." He paused. "But you Rumil are to take another smaller force north, we need to strengthen the northern march, to guard against incursions of Orcs from the Misty Mountains." He turned his attention then to Orophin who already he could see was therefore including himself in Haldir's own expedition to Rohan.

"And you Orophil will take a slightly larger number east, across the Anduin to reinforce the border against an assault from Dol Guldor. Lord Celeborn will remain here in Caras Galadhon for three more days while a further force is prepared, they will then reinforce the Eastern March as the Lady Galadriel believes that to be where the enemy will strike us hardest. These are the commands of the Lord and Lady." He could see how troubled they were by the orders but they would not question the Lord and Lady's command, as much as they wished to accompany their brother.

It was not for wish or desire for glory or anything so mundane as that he knew, where he went into danger they would always wish to follow, just as he wished he could remain to watch over them and his beloved home from the darkness that all too soon would come even unto Lothlórien. He felt it deeply, the danger to his home. The woods of Lórien had been his home since he was a child. He alone of his siblings remembered their old home, over the Mountains in the kingdom of Doriath. His parents had left that lad with the Lord Celeborn and his Lady, Galadriel long before that realm had fallen. Even now Haldir felt a great sadness that it had been destroyed. Even deeper was the pain and guilt that it had been destroyed in the second kinslaying, a matter of great tragedy for all Elves.

The destruction caused by the House of Fëanor of so many of their kindred's lives distressed Haldir. The days of Kinslaying were long over, the ages of the world had passed and yet he felt still like a young Elf except when at moments like this when he thought back over how many great events had passed during his long life.

He moved away from his brothers to the window, looking out the window over the City of Caras Galadhon always improved his mood but on that afternoon the golden sunlight that streamed through the trees did not bring peace to his mind. Instead he thought of all the ways his beautiful home could be destroyed if the coming war went ill.

Coming up a flight of stairs he saw a bevy of ladies, he recognised their faces. They were Lady Galadriel's attendants. Several were carrying bundles in their arms, unfalteringly he saw them stat across the narrow bridge to the talon of his tree. He moved from the window to the door, opening it as they approached. Serenely their leader smiled at him, as they came to a halt before him they bowed.

"We have brought gifts for your guest." Said the leader, stepping forwards she placed a bundle in his arms, it was cloth and had been tied with a length of silk. She retreated as the others came forwards, one by one they placed gifts upon his arms. Clothing and food they gave him, each carefully wrapped with silk and tied into a bundle.

He bowed over the gifts as the last maiden retreated.

"On her behalf I thank you ladies, you are most generous." He mouthed the platitudes with a small amount of guilt. He should have thought of these things but instead the Lady and her attendants had needed to think of such everyday requirements for him! The ladies smiled and made their own bows before retreating calling out to him their delight, as the descended that broke into song, their voices floating up to him in the gentle quiet of twilight. He heard a soft noise from above his head, a foot upon the floor of the bedroom. He moved immediately back inside his home, without even looking to where his brothers sat, one reading while the other continued fletching arrows and setting them in the three brothers quarrel's that lay before him on the bench, all three were near full and still Rumil worked silently, his fingers well trained in their task.

Haldir moved up the staircase to his own door. Carefully he juggled the pile of gifts so that he could rap his knuckles against the door. He hear muffled footsteps across the floor of his room, he bare feet made little noise. She opened the door an inch, her pale face looking out at him a moment before she opened the door more fully, she kept herself behind the door.

"My lord…?" he motioned with his head his desire to enter.

"May I?" he asked in Westron.

"Of course, this is your home, I would never presume to forbid you entry." Her words were soft and still a little slurred from sleep. He entered and moved swiftly to the desk that sat against the far wall near his dresser. He laid the gifts down a busied himself with laying them out across the table. While his back was turned he felt her move back towards the bed, he had seen the rangers breeches laid across the foot of the bed, without turning around he knew she was pulling them over her legs. He had of course already seen her all but naked out in the forest, when she was unconscious and he was assisting a healer with her wounds, but that was a different matter than the impropriety of her being half undressed in his own room while they were alone.

He felt now that he sensed her nakedness now more keenly than he had when he had first met her. Then when he had seen her long legs and the fairness of her skin it had not troubled him that she was female, what had drawn his eyes were the wounds to her flesh. Only later had it come to his mind that her body was well formed. As he stood there this thought arose again in his mind but he quieted it instantly.

He heard her quiet steps approaching him and turned towards her, ensuring his face was calm and hoping no trace of his thoughts would show. She was still very pale but he was glad to see a hint of colour in her cheeks and her eyes once more had the spark of life in them, as they had when he had given her Lembas and she had first gazed upon the Golden Woods. Her dark hair tumbled loose around her shoulders and she smiled tentatively at him, although her demeanour was still one of great sorrow.

"I bring gifts; the Lady Galadriel's attendants brought them not ten minutes ago." He motioned with his hand to the table, but rather than rush forwards in delight as a child she glanced over them briefly before turning her grey eyes upon him.

"Your Lady is too kind to me." The words were spoken with some great sadness behind them.

Haldir was for a moment unable to respond, he was unsure what words he should use. To be light and merry seemed not at all to be the best thing, yet to match her downcast attitude would not do either. Instead he thought some reassurance perhaps the best course.

"Perhaps the Lady judges you worthy of such kindness." She looked hesitantly at him for a moment soothing shone through her eyes, perhaps gratitude or some other feeling. But it was like sunlight on a cloudy day and all too soon that look and the brief smile that accompanied it were gone.

"Was it the Lady's maidens I heard singing just a few moments ago?" He nodded. "They had sweet voices, they woke me from my dream…" her eyes took on a far-away look, to him they seemed akin to summer clouds, palest grey and cool, contemplating her dream perhaps. He remained quiet. If she wished to tell him of what had caused her troubled sleep then that was her choice to make, although he wished greatly to hear her words. He waited and when it seemed she would say no more - on her dream or any other matter - he spoke again.

"I thought perhaps you may wish to bathe?" he added when she seemed disinclined to further the conversation. She nodded absently, but she did seem interested .

"Then come with me, there is a room on the next level set aside for it, my brothers will have prepared it while you slept I am sure." As she turned towards the door he lifted up two of the packages, within he knew from the size, shape and weight of the packages was clothing, then he led her down the stairs to the next level. Here the Talon held several rooms, here when his parent had resided had been his bedroom, a small library and a large bathing room such as might be found in any house. Inside was a large bath tub made of some cunning Dwarven metal. It did not rust, and heat passed through it gently. Beneath it was a pedestal built of stone, under which a fire had been laid, cunningly the smoke was drawn out through the wall, just as the water was drawn in from the rainwater that was collected into a circular tank above the roof.

He moved around the room, using tinder and flint to light a candle by the door. He took a taper and carefully set each of the candles in their ensconces on the wall to light, giving the room a golden, cheery glow.

It had been built for his mother who was greatly desirous of the comfort of such a system. The tub had already been filled by Rumil and Orophin, and the water had lazy curls of steam rising from it. Carefully he placed his bundles upon a chair near the door. He moved to the window and drew the shutters closed – not that any would normally pry into the room, sheltered as it was against the tree, but he felt it would make Anária more comfortable.

She was standing inside the door looking both troubled and unsure. He was certain at that moment that her thoughts were not on the present but on some memory or thought far away.

"Anária?" He called softly, bringing her back to the present. She stirred her grey eyes rising to his, he saw something in them, some shadow that had been unreadable in the dimness of his room, but here where candles were light and kept the shadows in the room at bay he could see clearly the shroud upon her.

"Anaria," he repeated softly, "What troubles you?" the words had come to his lips before he had thought them through. Something that had not happened to him in many centuries. She looked a little statled at his enquiry but she took a deep breath to answer it.

"My sleep was troubled." This he already knew but he did not let her see that. "I cannot now recall my dream but it was dark and had a great feeling of foreboding that I cannot shake. It has been with me now this feeling for some time... Since before…" There she trailed off and seemed uninclined to continue.

"Perhaps after you are refreshed and girded in your new clothes the peace of Lórien will come to you in time." She nodded absently, but gratefully. He nodded in return and made to leave.

"Wait, my lord." He stood over her in the doorway. "I am most grateful for all that you have done-" he made to quiet her words but she silenced him with a look, dark her eyes were in that moment and he felt their command. Grey and tumultous like a storm in winter, not angry, but not for the first time Haldir perceived something within her, some power resided behind those eyes he felt sure. Hidden and fettered as yet but a presence nonetheless.

"- I know I have already expressed gratitude but truly, without your intervention I would be dead, and the slim hope of my brothers recovery would also be gone. And you have been more than kind here in your city. I am grateful my lord, more grateful than I can express." He could find no words at that moment so he simply bowed an acknowledgement. He was still trying to fathom the strangness in her. Like Aragorn she was in dignity but yet unalike. He shook himself from his thoughts and took a breath, as he did he smelt a sweet scent and remebered the herbs that grew in the window-box.

"The flowers and herbs in the window are for your bathwater," he motioned to the window absently, keeping his eyes upon hers, but the strom had passed, they were clear and pale once more, like a veil. "Aethalas you may know, but here also grows Lissuin which may ease the burdens on your heart," her head was turned, her eyes passed over the familiar herb of Aethalas, and the to the sweet smelling Lissuin, and then to a small herb she was unfamiliar with. "it is called Naegleth***, it will ease the aches of your body." She smiled a little more.

"Thank you." She repeated her gratitude, and smiled up at him. She placed her hand over her heart and inclined her head. He mimicked her gesture. As he pulled up from the bow he reached out, placing his hand gently upon her cheek, after a moments hesitation she reiterated the gesture. He smiled, a strange elation coming over him. He then withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him he paused and placed a hand against the bark of the tree, after a moment he became aware of a the sounds of movement within, he heard the sound of leaves and petals hitting the water's surface, within moments a sweet scent came from within. He took a deep breath. His mind felt cleared as Aethalas and Lissuin brought him peace. The scent alone of Naegleth had little affect but he knew that in the water it would ease her aching limbs. He slowly moved away from the door.

As he descended each step he pondered those grey eyes and the strange power he had felt. When they had commanded silence he could not have spoken. Such power was rare indeed amongst mortals. Those such as Mithrandir, or the line of Kings as Aragorn might command such power but this Ranger from the North. She was barely more than a child to his eyes, from whence came such power he wondered - was she more than she looked? She was undoutbtedly of the Men of the West, a descendant of that noble race. Perhaps born in her was their likeness undimmed, even as was Aragorn. As he went about the simple tasks of his evening these thoughts lay heavily upon him, all unknown to his guest above.

*She _is _dreaming.

**"I'm asleep! This is a dream! Ahh he's fading/dying!"

***pain free/release

* * *

Anária stood still as he moved out the door, her cheek was still warm where his palm had rested. Never before in her life had any Elf made such a gesture towards her. She had seen such between Elves, and between Aragorn and his closest Elf friends but never had such a gesture been made towards her though she had abided near half her life in the company of Elves. Something had been burning in his eyes, a look which was unreadable to her. She attempted to shake it off, but like the dream the night before it clung to her, a strange feeling - though not altogether an unpleasant one. She moved to the window, her hands flitted over the various plants. The three plants were set in a box of black earth on the window sill so that during the day they would receive enough sunlight. Now, even with the shitters closed the small plants leaned towards them, yearning for the sun. She touched one of the flowers Haldir had names Lissuin, that barest brush of her fingers against the soft petal caused her to smell the sweetness of the scent truly for a moment.

As the Elven Lord had said it lifted her heart, she felt the sweetness of the scent ease her thoughts and feelings. It did not remove her troubles but rather it cleared her thoughts and feelings, allowing her to order them calmly. She smiled as she plucked the flower, it came willingly into her hand as though it had been awaiting her touch, she moved her hands to the Aethalas and Naegleth and their leaves also came willingly into her hands. She then moved back to the bath sprinkling the leaves and flower into the water. A sweet and gentle scent rose up from the steaming water. Carefully she peeled off her soiled clothing placing them on a low rack by the window, next to it were sheets for drying. She moved back to the bath and walked up the small wooden steps set against the metal bath. Carefully she lowered her foot into the water, which was just the right temperature it was a heat which infused her skin with a relaxing feeling.

She carefully lowered herself into the water, she could feel the effects not only of the water but of the herbs and flower she had added to it begin to do their work. For the first time in more than a week, and possibly longer, she felt her body and mind relax. She carefully ducked her face and head under the water, gently rubbing the warm water through her hair and against her face. Then she lay back, allowing the feeling of relaxation to spread. Despite her long hours abed she had not felt rested and soon found herself drifting back to sleep...

* * *

~Please Review~


	5. Chapter 4: Through a Glass, Darkly

Daughter of Númenor

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts!

I apologise ahead of time for my inability to write decent verse, and for how incredibly weirdly I write from Haldir's perspective. I have attempted to make it seem more old fashioned due to Haldir's age but I suspect it is simply stodgy. I may revise this part severely in the next few days but I promised to post this chapter and so here it is!

Please please review, it is very helpful to get feedback especially if you have something negative to say.

Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my little plot bunnies) – Lord of the Rings is the creation of the one and only JRR Tolkien!

* * *

Chapter 4: Through a Glass, Darkly

Anária was floating, warmth and calm suffused her. She could faintly feel the metal sides and bottom of the bath tub where they touched her skin but overwhelmingly all she felt was calm. She wasn't sure how long she had lain there, she did know that outside the twilight had faded and night had set in. Downstairs she heard the faint sound of voices, Haldir and his siblings. She had been told their names. Rumil and Orophin. Rumil was the most delicate featured of the brothers, while Orophin shared Haldir's broader face and arching brows. She remembered their expressions of surprise when she had arrived, carried so gently in his arms. She still felt confused about that, it had made her uncomfortable at the time, now she was unsure whether she was uncomfortable because it was vaguely inappropriate or because of some other feeling. An alien churning sensation in her stomach, akin to but not quite like what she had felt when she had had to bear arms to defend herself.

That was unpleasant and terrifying, this feeling was also unpleasant, and it scared her somewhat as it was unfamiliar but it was neither overwhelming nor terrifying. She did not feel threatened, rather it felt almost like riding a horse fast over unfamiliar ground, thrilling and exhilarating.

Occasionally sounds crept in the window, far off laughter or snatches of songs. The she heard a different sound. Somewhere in the distance she could hear something else. Rain. And the sound of thunder. Or was it thunder? It sounded like footsteps. She sat up rather suddenly, the bath water sloshed over the edge of the tub.

_Thousands of booted steps marching across the plain. A white hand on black. She was sighting down her bow at her enemy, Lightening jagged across the sky, they covered all the land in a squirming black mass, as though each individual were part of some massive creature…_

Anária let out a whimper as the vision faded from her eyes. She stood quickly, her head reeling. The peace of the small bathing room was gone. It now seemed tight and cramped, she could get cornered her too easily. And she had no weapons, as she scrambled from the tub she almost slipped and fell. The smell of carrion and the iron scent of blood were on the wind that came through the window. She managed to grab hold of the tub. Quickly she made her way to the towel rail, grabbing a bath sheet she tried to dry herself quickly. She shivered as she looked back at the bath. The water was still churning from her hasty exit.

As she dried she slowly calmed again. The scent had died away, the candles calmed and the flickering light faded. Now she was simply standing in a room in the house of an Elven Lord in the Golden Wood.

To think she was in danger in such a place was, she felt, a sign of the power of the gathering dark. Here in Lothlórien the darkness should not be able to penetrate. She had seem the expression on Haldir's face when she had spoken of her dream. He had not been surprised, but he had been troubled. Carefully she took up the parcels from the ladies of Galadriel. There were undergarment of a fabric so silky and light that she could barely keep it in her hands. Carefully she slipped those on. They moulded to her skin and were instantly warm against her. Somehow she knew that in midwinter they would keep her warm. Over that went the first layer of an Elvish style gown. It was a soft grey, and also made of a fine silky fabric. It had the slightest bell at the sleeves and the skirt was full and soft and brushed against the floor. Over that went a girdle of some stiffer fabric which she laced up over the more shapeless undergarments.

And then she withdrew the dress. It was a dark rich green, edged about with red and gold. On the cuffs the red stitching was set in a pattern of three waves, as well as about the skirts hem. A golden cloth that had a shimmer to it had been let into the bodice in the shape of a star with seven points above a stylised wave, which together were encircled by a red stitch. The gold showed also at the sleeve cuffs and hem of the dress where the red wave pattern was seen once more. Carefully she pulled on the dress. She found it neither warm nor cold, rather she felt at perfect ease. The cloth was seemingly weightless. There where no shoes and so she padded back upstairs barefoot. Back into the room she had slept in she went, she had thought to bring a taper from below but found it was unnecessary. She had seen the glass globes around the walls of the room before but had not examined them closely - believing them candle holders of some variety. Rather, now that it was night they had lit by themselves. She had heard tell of such wonders but had never seen them; the globes exuded a calm radiance upon the room. Truly they must be a prized possession, even here in the Golden Wood, as she had seen them nowhere else in the house, the winding stairway and the bath room were lit by large wax candles that gave off a sweet scent and glowed very brightly, and she had seen a simple fireplace in the lower room when she had been brought in. With a sense of wonder she moved to the one that was set above the dresser and found that it seemed to give off no shadow, indeed the whole room was drenched in light. She wondered whether they lit with oncoming darkness or if some word or movement caused them to light and go dark.

She looked aside and for a moment was startled by a movement from the corner. But it was only her own reflection looking back at her. Her dark hair was wet and curling haphazardly around her face, a dark purplish bruise upon her forehead was more faded than she felt it should have been. She knew she had got it in the fall from the horse. The harsh cuts on her cheek from whipping branches were now little more than a graze. Carefully she shifted the sleeve of the dress. The wound by the arrow had been forgotten by her; indeed there was little more than stiffness in her shoulder to feel. Now she looked in shock at the dark purple mark. The slightest pucker of the skin showed where the arrow had struck her but apart from the bruising there was no damage.

Taking a deep breath she turned away from the mirror. Amongst the items the Elven Lord had left on the table she saw several more packets that looked like garments. Carefully she went through them. There was a blood red robe outer robe with an under robe made of golden fabric, with a strange device of a golden star over a wave upon them. She recognised them as alike to those garments she had seen Elven Ladies wear on long journeys, lightweight robes of strange fabric with layers each split and gusseted for ease of movement upon horseback or foot. It had a high collar with blood red stones and gold thread set into it, once more in a pattern of stars and waves.

The star in some way reminded her of something. The seven rays were alike she supposed to the Seven stars of Elendil which some of her kindred bore occasionally upon their journeys. But such a device she herself had never worn. She also knew the ancient heraldry of Gondor had seven pointed Stars but the Wave beneath it was not as anything she had seen before. Against her feeling on the matter she decided to dismiss the device as some fancy of the Ladies of Galadriel who perhaps knew a little of such devices.

Another packet revealed riding boots of human style but undoubtedly of Elven make. More clothing had been provided, garments for sleeping and two cloaks, one dark red and heavy with a brooch set with a red stone, the other was perhaps light grey, or perhaps green for its colour seemed to shift, with a Mallorn leaf brooch. These travel garments she set aside and looked closely at the last gift. It was a small box. She unwrapped the silk and found a small box carved of wood and set with the seven-pointed star over the wave emblem. She opened it and within found many of the small items she had lost along with her pack, a small ivory comb and thread for the tying back of her hair, needle and thread, a flint and other such items. She smiled.

Such things were always of use. Carefully she combed the knots from her hair allowing the drying curls to sit simply against her shoulders. Soon enough she felt she would be tying it back again in a warriors braids to go to war, for now let it be free. She looked once more in the mirror, she looked as unlike the figure she had seen in that same mirror in the morning as was possible. Almost she looked as one fit to be presented at some noble gathering of great lords so fine were the Elven clothes.

Slowly she descended the stairs, her feet still tentative, her knee was still stiff though it no longer pained her to put her weight on it.

She paused as she came around the bend into the main room of the house, a table that sat against the Western wall had been laid out as though for dinner, a platter of fruit and another of cheese and a third with Elven breads and cakes upon it were set on the table, the last had clearly only just been placed their by one of the brothers, Rumil she thought.

Rumil, the most delicate of countenance turned from the table and gazed at her as his two brothers came through from another room bearing glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be wine. They too paused as they set eyes upon her. She felt suddenly a great sense of ease as she looked down upon them from the stair and with a smile she lightly stepped barefoot down the steps to meet them.

* * *

Haldir was aware before she came into the room of the soft noises of her feet upon the steps. He made to follow Orophin into the main room, but Orophin had paused before him and so Haldir stepped around him. But he found himself struck as still and silent as his two brothers. There upon the stair she stood, the grace and majesty of her blood on display for all to see. Her dark hair was curled around her shoulders, in her eyes shone the beauty of the Queens of old, women of the ages who had been the mothers, sisters, daughters and wives of the Kings of Númenor, Arnor and Gondor.

She was not an Elven Maid like many in Lórien, free with laughter and song even in the darkest hour. Nor was her beauty radiant as Galadriel's or glimmering as a star as the Lady Undomiel. This was a beauty that told of hardship, of strength, her features were strong but fair, like an image carven in stone from ages past of the glory of the Kings who had come across the sea. She smiled, one which reached even her eyes, which were clear and grey like a doves wing. As she came down the stairs he noticed she was only slightly encumbered by her injured knee and he was glad.

Haldir felt his own smile match hers, some joy within him long forgotten with the rashness of his youth came now unbidden too him. It had been many years when his heart had beaten so, and the memory of it was but a ghost of the experience in the moment of beholding the young woman's beauty restored by rest. To his eyes the scratches upon her face and the bruise which marred her forehead were no detraction from her beauty, but rather showed him a glimpse of the iron will that lurked beneath such a youthful face.

He became aware that his brothers had moved to the table but he still stood as he had been, the bottle of berry wine forgotten in his hands. She was barely a step away; she smiled once more, tentatively. He wondered suddenly if she saw the way his thoughts were turning, but after a quick search of her eyes he found that she did not seem aware and he was glad.

"You are feeling better My Lady?" he asked, the honorific coming naturally to him at that moment as he saw her true majesty.

"I thank you, I am." Her reply was courteous and spoken with grace. Something was changing in her he sensed, though what that change was or what it meant was beyond his ability to see. She smiled as he withdrew one of the chairs that looked out over the window, she sat with a murmur of gratitude. He moved to the head of the table that sat adjacent to the window.

The table was not overburdened with food, the three platters held the normal fare the brothers ate. A fourth platter brought by Orophin had a small roast fowl and root vegetables upon it. The food was plain but hearty and despite her obvious hunger Anária ate as one who has been taught in the graces of table manners, indeed although Haldir did not know it she had spent many years in Imladris, at the feasts of the Last Homely House. For a while the conversation lingered on polite subjects. Slowly however the subject moved towards the gathering dark beyond the borders of Lórien.

"Do you fear an attack soon on the Golden Wood?" she asked in response to hearing that Rumil and Orophin would soon return to the borders with reinforcements. His brothers looked to him. He paused a moment before answering, her eyes were worried and as she turned to look at him he sensed her feeling that perhaps she and her brother might be trapped within the wood if it came under siege.

"We believe that the forces of the enemy are closing in all around us," he saw her start a little and wondered what thought was running through her mind. "but we do not believe they will attack just yet." He saw though in that moment that their guest's thoughts had wandered far, as her nod was absent minded and her eyes were focused upon the table wide and unseeing. With infinite patience the three elves waited courteously. Presently she came back, hher eyes refocusing, she looked up aware of the silence that sat in the room.

"Forgive me I was just…" she seemed unable to find the words.

"Lost in the wandering dreams of youth?" asked Orophin with a smile of indulgence. His brothers smiled as well, Rumil rather ruefully for he was the most prone of the three brothers to sitting idly and wandering hither and yon in his thoughts, and so his older brothers often said it was his youth that caused such despite his having long ago have grown old in age beyond the lives of most other creatures that walked upon middle earth.

"I was thinking of my home. Away in the North we have long felt that the enemy was but waiting for some signal to stike, long have we felt the shadow about us, ever watchful, and ever growing in strength." She fell silent, her eyes thoughtful, she looked at each of their faces as though considering whether she should say her next words, softly, haltingly they came. Her voice was low and measured as she spoke a verse.

_'When all the shadow comes cloak'd around,_

_And Hope seems to linger in darkness, in doubt,_

_Look then! And see there will be birthed a child,_

_Of the line of the Sun who speaketh as the wisest._

_And in her will be the glory of Numenor undimmed!_

_Look there! For she shall herald the coming of the King!'_

"It is a verse spoken amongst my people." She said quietly. "They say it is based upon the words of Elendil to his son Anárion's oldest daughter who had married one of his Captain's and feared he would not return from the Last Alliance. To allay her fears Elendil foresaw that she would bear a child whos would eventually bear a daughter who 'speaketh as the wisest' in a time of darkness and whose birth would be a signal that the time of King was coming again." She was gazing out the window into the mellorn trees with a wistful expression on her face.

"The husband never returned from the battle, nor did Elendil but she was already swollen with child, a daughter who one of the stories says was bathed each day by her mother's tears."

"They also say that since the line of kings failed when each daughter of my family was born a messenger was sent to the heir, and he would come upon her third birthday and lay his hands upon her and ask her some question that the wise would now the answer, but never was an answer given until me." She seemed sad, regretful.

"You were the one foretold?" asked Orophin in his quiet way.

"So they say." She paused, as though considering her answer. "It is true I suppose that more than many the seeing of what shall come is strong in me. And yet I still I doubt that I can speak as the wisest do!" and here she gave a rueful little laugh.

"But then, I _do_ believe that Aragorn will be King – he must be." She seemed again to be more speaking to herself than her company. But presently she shook off her melancholic thoughts and enquired after life in the Golden Wood, her Sindarin flowing smoothly into the accent and style of Lothlórien so easily it seemed she must have spoken it many years.

Haldir leaned back in his chair, content t study her as she spoke with his brothers, and what he saw only deepened the regard he felt. She was he saw akin in her grace and power as Aragorn, and alike to him she was as yet still veiled, her power hidden behind the mask of the Ranger. When she had spoken of the prophecy of Elendil he had seen once more a brief glimpse of the one who could come forwards. Of the line of Elendil she most undoubtedly was to Haldir's mind, she may be of a lesser line and majesty than Aragorn, but few men he had seen or heard tell of in this age had even an inkling of the grace that lay in Aragorn.

She was indeed he felt a reflection of the glory of Aragorn in a woman's body and no lesser indeed than a reflection. She was not the heir of Isilduir after all, but a mighty power she could be if she took up her place amongst her people as a leader. He wondered if her brother, of the same lineage, had the same mighty star upon his brow that his sister did. A mighty pair they would have been together. He had thought perhaps the number of Orcs behind them was simply due to the rising number of the fell creatures stirring out of their dark holes but now he saw that they had feared and hated their prey. They had perhaps recognised in the siblings what a banner of hope two such would be to the men of the South if they should stand and fight beside them and so had pursued them relentlessly. Or perhaps they had been mistaken for members of the fellowship as they were clearly from the North.

His reverie was broken as a strange sensation came over him, he realised that Orophin and Rumil were beginning to clear away the dishes. And she was watching him quietly, her eyes still fair and clear, as he looked back at her fully he thought for a moment he spied a bright circlet of rule on her brow, with a glittering red fire set upon her forehead, in her right arm he glimpsed a sword of bright fire, and in her left hand was the tranquillity of peace; in her eyes was foresight. But as quickly as the vision had come it faded. She frowned a little, as though she had seen something of what he saw but he was uncertain. To raise it would be impolite and so he waited, wondering if she had indeed seen something of this future for herself.

Once more he found himself gazing into her grey eyes, and she almost unblinking looked back, and then slowly her frown passed away, and even as he felt a smile grace his own lips he saw one grace hers. What she had seen that caused her to smile so he did not know, he did know that it made him feel as though he was standing in a world of golden sunlight, beneath the spread of golden leaves, elanor about his feet and sweetness in the air.

"Come, shall we join your brothers outside?" she asked after a long moment of blissful silence and Haldir could only accept, he could hear Rumil gently strumming his harp, and so the went out onto a small balcony which was set under the floor of his own room and open balcony above. And there they sat for many hours, the brothers sang songs of old which they had learned in Lórien, some of which she had not heard before. And then she sang songs of the North which none of the three had heard. Chants and tales were exchanged as the night deepened. And then as the moon rose high in the sky their guest grew more quiet, some darkness seemed to grow upon her thoughts. She moved to the ver edge of the flet and looked out her head tilted, as one who listens to a distant voice. And then her voice rose suddenly in song, it was the tragedy and glory of the times in which she lived, the fear and hope all at once and carried far amongst the still darkness of the night.

_'Away! Away to war the men are going,_

_Ah we left here shall despair!_

_Away the west wind now is blowing,_

_Ah the passing of the fair!_

_Come now darkness, claim thy child,_

_Oh how beautiful is this night!_

_Come not unto darkness fair world,_

_Oh now comes flight or fight!_

_Away away! The Horn is crying forth to me!_

_Ah but now the cry is a'quieted!_

_Away she cries, I must away she calls me,_

_"Look now and be comforted!" '_

And with that she turned on her heel. Moving with great purpose through the house and across the bridge, from the flet they could see her briefly as she descended the staircase, they sat still unmoved, some dread had come over them, a thing unknown in Caras Galadhon. Far away a grey boat tumbled unbroken down the river Anduin, and in Minas Tirith they heard faintly the echo of a great horn come crying out of the north.

* * *

Galadriel watched the human woman walk slowly down the stairs. The gown which clothed her form showed a well formed muscular body, her dark curls which brushed against it were cut short, a warriors cut which just brushed against the green shoulders of her gown and was, to Galadriel's eyes, a most strange look - even for a human. Together with the bruise on her forehead, grazed cheek and the slightest trace of a limp which caused her to take a step at a time she made a most unusual presence in Galadriel's garden. Few had been allowed to walk in this part of her garden; fewer still had been allowed to look within the mirror before her. She looked down at it; the water was still eddying from where she had poured the water into the mirror.

Galadriel placed the silver ewer with which she had poured the water back in its place and waited as the young woman took the final step down onto the floor of the hollow. The root system and bole of gigantic mellorn dwarfed the young woman who was several inches short of six feet. Galadriel smiled a moment as she thought of how the woman who seemed of small stature to her now would tower over the little people of the Shire who had stayed in her realm so recently. Though she doubted either would be found wanting in courage of heart!

* * *

Anária felt as though the lady was looking through her not at her. As though she saw something else, that Anária herself could not. Carefully she moved forwards. A silver pool of water lay in a shallow silver bowl upon a stone pedestal.

"I could hear you summon me My Lady". She bowed. There had been no words in that summoning, yet a summoning it had been. Galadriel's eyes focused once more upon Anária. A mysterious smile graced the Lady's lips.

"It was you who summoned yourself." Anária frowned. The Lady was still smiling, and waiting. Perhaps this was test? A riddle for a test.

"Do you mean that I caused you to summon me by some means Lady?" Galadriel simply continued to smile, tilting her head slightly. "You can see into my mind… And therefore you knew of my… premonitions?" Galadriel's inclination of acknowledgement was barely even a movement. Her eyes remained on Anária.

"You are troubled by your gift." The words were gentle. Anária felt a great wave of feeling, a gift it was called, how this could be called a gift she had often wondered.

"My Lady… This is no gift!" She swallowed hard against her onrushing feelings. "It was because of this so-called gift that my brother lies grievously wounded. Is it a gift that I am plagued by premonitions and feelings without context or substance by which to judge them truly?" She bit her lip to quiet her words, their bitterness and tone echoed strangely amongst the quiet trees. Like that echo the Lady's tone when she spoke was one of remonstration.

"We do not always get to choose our gifts Anária." The lady was no longer smiling, instead her countenance was troubled. "And some gifts that seem a mighty burden may turn out to be a blessing in disguise." Anária bowed her head, an acknowledgement and an apology.

"You are troubled not only by this gift. You are troubled by the knowledge that your chieftain, your lord was so close and yet your steps were guided away from him, away from a path of danger." She lifted her eyes to meet the Lady's. Her eyes were kind in their sorrow. "Would it lay your mind at rest to know that your chieftain lives?"

"It would." Her words were little more than a breath. Power lay in the hands of the Lady of Lórien, this she had known, but she could not imagine that such knowledge was possible!

"I have seen it." The words were measured. There was an unspoken but in the sentence that stopped Anária's elation from taking flight.

"You have seen it?" The Lady was looking away, into the silver bowl before her. Anária stepped closer, to the edge of the stone pedestal, but something warned her not to look into water fully – not yet.

"I see much, Anária, daughter of Anáthor and Belraen, of the House of Elendil, descendant of the Kings of Arnor and Gondor." Her blue eyes had fastened upon Anária, a look which was searing in its intensity. "I see you, riding through the wilds, I see the fears of your family that a precious daughter will be lost. I see you taken to Imladris by Aragorn, your gift yet another of the signs foretold of the coming of the return of the King." She paused and Anária wondered if she was finished, but implacably the words came on.

"I see your brother, struck down, defending you, a beloved little sister." Anária's breath caught in her throat, she had told no-one of how Anádor had received the wound to his side. But the Lady did not stop. "I see your troubled thoughts. You believe you are responsible, you feel that your weakness will be the undoing of the world." Anária felt her cheeks heat, she could no longer meet the Lady's gaze, she dropped her eyes to her hands where the rested on the edge of the pedestal, her fingers were white at the knuckles where she gripped the edge. There had been ever so slight a hint of amusement in those final words. A mocking tone that made Anária feel ashamed. She had great pride she knew; too much, it was a fault she felt keenly.

"You take too much of the responsibility for yourself." The mocking tone was gone; in its stead was gentle reproach. "There are others who must carry the burden of the fate of men. You would do him a service by carrying it also – but that does not aid him, nor does it aid you." Anária felt tears of shame spill hot onto her cheeks. She heard a rustle of fabric, Galadriel's hem came into view, and she felt a hand upon her chin. It drew her face up until she was looking at the Lady.

"Pride is not always a fault young ranger. Nor is it an evil to take responsibility for your actions." The blue eyes now brought her peace as she looked into them, even as her next words brought dread.

"Will you look now? You may yet see something that may encourage you even if your dreams are troubled."

At first there seemed only a reflection of the stars above, and her own face looking back at her, but then it when completely black. First she saw the last homely House, Imladris at mid winter, the leaves had turned to gold, she saw the Lord of Rivendell passing across a bridge, his face grim. In his hands he carried a great sword.

Then the image changed, she saw a great number of people passing across a plain, women and children for the most part, and in their faces the hushed fear of those who flee a terrible foe. The mothers kept their children close and guards cloaked in green guarded the column. They were the people of Rohan she knew, not only from their standards and the dress of the guards but by their look, a fair people of flaxen hair were the Horse Lords of Rohan. And then just for a moment she saw a tall man with dark hair walking amongst the fair figures but before she could ascertain his identity he was gone, the mirrors image had changed again.

Rain poured upon a line of Elven archers in golden armour, amidst them, his head uncovered stood Haldir, his proud face was wary, almost she would have said fearful as he looked down at something she could not see. Then he was moving, it was later, the rain had stopped, he was motioning to elves to pass him. She could not see what happened! He had been struck and he reeled and looked around almost in confusion. For a moment he seemed to be looking right at her, his face dark with pain and dread, when she saw another Uruk rise behind him. But then the image was gone.

Before she could speak or move she saw a village set ablaze, Orcs marauding through it. Faster now the images came – one after another – a weeping mother holding a dead child, men and woman in chains led by Orcs. One of them turned her face – it was her mother, Belraen! She no longer wished to look, but she could not force herself to turn away. Then her mother was gone. She saw Elves upon the steps of the Last Homely House, it was ablaze and they lay, dead and dying as it burned around them. Then she saw a creature the likes of which she had only seen twice before in her life. A Halfling, one of the little people. His hair was dark and his face was dirty. He was running down a black tunnel, his face a picture of terror. For the briefest moment he turned his face to her and she saw a chain about his neck, upon it lay a golden ring. It was shiny and bright, and seemed to grow larger as she looked at it, until it filled the entire mirror. And for a brief moment within it she though she saw something flicker. An eye – an eye of fire!

"Ahhhhh!" With a cry she threw herself back.

* * *

Galadriel was silent. Anária was shaking, her hand against the bole of a giant mellorn as she took deep shaking breaths. Galadriel did not wait for her to gather herself, there was no time, it was already the middle of the night, just after dawn the final march of the Elves in alliance with men would begin.

"What you have seen is but a glimpse of several possible futures. Most of these are beyond your reach to alter." Anária's grey eyes came up to meet the ladies, tears were standing in them but with a shake of her head and a quick flick of her fingers she dismissed them

"Most? Then there is something that I can do?" she pushed herself away from the wall and Galadriel smiled, she had not been mistaken as to the strength of the young woman, her grey eyes were alight with a fiery determination.

"You have two choices. You can remain here in Lórien and tend to your brother, but know that if Hope fails these woods will fall, that is the war goes ill elsewhere there will be nowhere that you will meet your doom here." Anária nodded jerkily. Galadriel walked close once more, locking down into that proud young face.

"Or you can leave your brother in our care and ride forth with our blessing to do what you can, to play your own part in determining the fate of the lands of men." Before she had finished speaking she already knew what Anária intended. And in her heart Galadriel felt a fierce joy; the young woman met her eyes and knew Galadriel saw into her mind and heart, she returned the Lady's smile with a twist of her lips.

"Then I commit my brother to your care my Lady, and ask your indulgence and assistance in helping my go forth."

"Which you shall have!" said the Lady, she turned away, a gesture of her hand commanding Anária to follow her she went up the winding stairs…

* * *

~Please Review! ~


	6. Chapter 5: A Golden Alliance

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts!

Please review, it is very helpful to get feedback especially if you have something negative to say.

Also I promise that in the next chapter there will be more action, but I think if they just suddenly fall in love or every time the turn they around are ambushed or whatever that's all a bit unrealistic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing – Lord of the Rings is the creation of the one and only JRR!

* * *

Chapter 5: A Golden Alliance

* * *

Haldir watched from the balcony of his darkened room as the young Dúnedain approached once more across the slim wooden bridge towards his talan. She seemed weary as she came across, quietly he waited, he heard her footfalls on the stairs and then she came into the room. She paused within, he did not think she had seen him on her approach to the house, but he knew she sensed his presence in the dark. He waited, patient and still in the cool breeze that drifted through Lóthlorien. To him it seemed the breeze was mournful, it sighed its way through the trees as though it was farewelling them. Or perhaps that was his own feeling as he looked out upon his home.

It was strange for of all those who lived in Lórien he had been one of those to venture out into the world most often, far to all corners of the compass he had gone, but at the Lady's warning he had never strayed to close to the seashore. He could feel the ocean of course, as all his people did, but never had he felt it call to him as it had his parents long ages ago. His mother was a kinswoman of Celeborn, long ago had his parents made their choice. It had been his father's desire to leave, he had seen the sea distantly once not long after Rúmil had been born and ever since had longed to depart. But he had stayed until his children were grown. Haldir had seen his mothers anguish at her choices, to leave her three sons behind in the darkening world or to stay behind and farewell her beloved husband.

Both choices would hurt her deeply, but she had been counselled by Galadriel to leave her sons in the charge of the Lord and Lady and depart to the Blessed Realm of Valinor. Even now Haldir felt no great desire to venture there. This world was still fair, and many things there were that could be found of great beauty, and many puzzles to solve.

A soft step behind him caused him to turn his head. She was standing in the doorway watching him. Even in the dark he could see that she had been crying, deep inside he felt pained, she was too young and fair a creature to know such sorrow.

"Come. Look upon Caras Galadhon by starlight alone. Sometimes I think the fair city is most beautiful late at night." She walked out onto the veranda, her bare feet light on the ground. She stood there beside him in the darkness, looking out at the city, silvery lights winked in the darkness, great winding stairs were lit by some inner light. High in the trees were set lanterns of white fire that glimmered and winked in the darkness like stars brought down from the heavens.

And across all lay the peace of Lórien, the gift of the Lady.

"I will be leaving tomorrow." She said quietly, almost as though speaking to herself. "And I know I must go, yet this place I will be loathe to leave so soon. It is more beautiful than any place I could have imagined." He looked over at her. Some change had come over her he saw, she seemed somehow both more and less than she had been. Then he met her eyes and in them he saw no more the spark of power, now a fire was in them. Some determination had been reached, some great change wrought. He felt within himself a change almost as great, something long cast aside was stirring he saw in her eyes a soul that was troubled by burdens and responsibility to great almost for her to bare. And something rose within him to say she should not bear them alone. He was glad now of the decision that he himself would leave the wood though he had taken it with great foreboding, now he knew he must go, this fair young woman could not be sent into the darkness alone, or she would fall and that would be a lessening not only to the world but to him.

His thoughts and feelings no longer took him by surprise. He had had many hours to ponder them. Haldir felt he was beginning to understand what feelings had been roused within him and for fair or foul he would follow them and the young Dúnedain on whatever paths her destiny might take her.

"We should rest –the march shall be a long one, with little time for rest ere our journey be ended." She said, her words confirming to him that she would be joining the march to Rohan.

"We should." He smiled at her, and then moved past her.

"I shall be downstairs, I will wake you when the time comes." He said from the doorway to the inner room.

"Thank you." He nodded and prepared to leave her when she called out again, "Haldir," she was frowning and had turned her back to Lóthlorien, her eyes on him and a small frown between her brows. "I will be glad to serve you, and fight at your side in whatever battles we may encounter." He paused.

"I will be glad of you at my side, but do not speak of service." He spoke gently. "Say rather we will stand next to one another as the Elves and the children of Númenor have done for many long ages of this earth." She smiled, a genuine true smile that lit her from within.

"I would be glad to My Lord Captain." She bowed.

"My Lady." He responded also bowing. He turned away and as he made his way to his own room he felt lightness in his steps that had been missing since he learned of the battle to come far away in the land of Men.

* * *

Before Dawn he had awoken her, and once he had removed his own armour to downstairs and put it own he returned to deliver her armour to her, it had been brought in the grey before dawn by a member of the Lady's household. He had brought it upstairs to find her dressed in a red robe set at the throat with bright red gems set in gold. Her battle robes were fit for an Elven Queen. He moved downstairs to ensure that the Dress she had worn the night before had indeed been taken along with the other items that were being sent ahead to the river. The armour had not been a great burden to his arms but she was recently wounded and would need garments to wear and change into during the coming weeks. Finding everything in order and his brothers both up and dressed he spoke quietly with them a few moments before returning to se how Anária went with her own armour to find her placing her baldric over the armour that had been adjusted for her. The work had been done days earlier; how the Lady had known it would be required he could only guess. It was not a Warden's armour and he could not recall when or where it had been made, nor for whom, although it was clearly of the finest make and many centuries old.

An elegant leather breastplate went over sleeves of delicate chainmail of Mithril, which covered her upper arms, attached by cloth to another set of fine Mithril links that covered her hips and thighs both back and front with splits for ease of movement, especially on horseback. The arm greaves were eather, both the breastplate and greaves had been embossed centuries before with a stylised pattern of mallorn leaves and elanor flowers set in gold which were repeated more subtly on the leather straps and metal buckles of her baldric and sword belt. Beneath she wore a richly made dark red high collared Elven robe, which extended down to her ankles, it had large splits in it from her hips to allow freedom of movement, beneath another lightweight fabric formed a second free moving robe over leggings and high brown cavalry boots. All these he knew had been made by the Lady and her companions for he had received them on her behalf a bare ten hours earlier.

It had been a strange and hectic night. After Anária had returned after the stroke of midnight, Haldir had been awoken by the two elves carrying her armour. He had been formally informed by those Lord's of the household of Celeborn and Galadriel that she would be accompanying the expedition to Rohan as a guest and was if possible to be delivered into the custody of her kinsman, Aragorn.

Haldir stepped forward as she fiddled with the placement of the baldric over her shoulder, with its beautifully wrought quarrel tipped in mithril and set with elanor flowers in gold. He saw her grimace as she rolled her shoulders under the heavy fabric and weight of her weapons.

"You need not be armed, we can protect you until we reach the battle." He said quietly as he carefully adjusted the straps to make the perfect fit. He felt her stiffen where his fingers lightly touched the straps of her breastplate. She stayed still a moment her face tilted down, her eyes on where his fingers lay on her healing shoulder, then her eyes lifted upwards. He looked into them for a moment before lowering his own eyes and inclining her head. He could see her resolution set firmly on her face, her grey eyes were clear with purpose and once more for a moment he felt the power that lay within her.

"I would not be a burden My Lord." Her words were soft but like steel. "And I may not be the one who needs protection." He tried to meet her eyes to understand the meaning in those words but she had looked away. She lifted the dark red cloak from the dresser and swung it around her shoulders, he realised it was made of the same fabric as his own Cloak and was red, a colour which amongst the Warden's of Lórien had long symbolised command.

He stepped back, any light would set the gold and Mithril ablaze, he frowned, on a battlefield she would not only be rallying point for her fellow soldiers if she fought well, but she would also be a point of attack for the enemy in her bright raiment. But he was sure the Lady had some purpose in making her appear as she did.

She did not yet have a sword, although she had a place for a scabbard upon her belt, he suspected the Lady awaited her with it below, in the clearing where the party that was to set out for Rohan would gather at dawn. He looked out a large window in the side of the room, the pale grey of early morning was beginning to steal through the mallorn trees, it was time.

Anaria and his brothers followed him from his talan and down through the quiet city, their pace unhurried as golden dawn had not yet come, the steely greyness of prey dawn was barely being interrupted by the sun, light there was to see by but not daylight yet and in some places small clouds sat amongst the trees and below silvery mist had gathered in the dark. Haldir paused just above the ground, here their paths diverged, his brothers headed north to their companies who would be setting out not long after his own. He gripped each of them firmly by the shoulder; long looks exchanged which meant more than the murmured words.

Anária too farewelled each of them, she stepped forwards firstly took Orophin's hands, quietly she said a blessing in the language of men, beseeching the Valar to watch over him, then gently she turned his hands so that his palms were upwards and bowing down she laid a kiss on the palms of each hand. As she did so the first golden rays of true dawn danced through the woods, glittering in her battle raiment and sparkling in her collar of gold and red.

She then did the same to Rúmil. The bowed to her and murmured farewells in their own language and with that they parted, each going forth to their own fate. Haldir once again took the lead as they moved through the last level of the city. Anária was all but walking normally, even in her heavy clothes and cloak. Her figure was proud and fair, even as a queen of old.

* * *

Anária herself was not thinking at that moment of herself at all, the weariness of her limbs had fled during the night, she slept only briefly and once more had been haunted by a strange vision of a distant world. As she woke though the dream had all but faded, leaving behind only a warning, that it was a vision of the future.

As she reached the final steps the Captain of the Golden Wood paused and held out this hand, his red cloak and golden armour seemed strange to her, she had preferred his simple grey raiment, this Elf Lord who stood before her was a great and mighty Captain, a Sindarin Elf of age and power she could only guess at. She took his hand, and looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, and for just a second they were bathed together in a golden ray of sun that cloaked him all around in gold as true dawn came upon the clearing, behind him she saw lines of Wardens in full battle armour standing still and proud, pennants fluttered limply in the gentle breeze and someone raised a golden horn and blew a long clear note.

But in that moment her eyes were not drawn away, she looked full upon the Lord Haldir and saw him truly, his age and power, his belief in loyalty and duty that was at the core of his being. He would not turn from any task his Lord and Lady commanded, nor leave any of his Wardens behind. He would ask no Elf or Man to enter into a battle he himself would not fight, nor make any statement of which there was untruth. She looked into his heart and saw it in turmoil and all ablaze, and something in return fired in her own heart, like setting spark to tinder. And had she not known they were watched and surrounded on the eve of battle some foolishness of act might she have made in the moment. For she believed he too saw as she did, into her own heart's deepest desires.

The moment passed and with a deep breath she stepped past him as he still stood silently at the base of the stairs, guiding her past him. Nearby on a small rise girded about by golden blossom stood the Lady of the wood, clothed in fair white set about with gold and pon her brow was a circlet in the Elven style. Her eyes were veiled and no thought in them could Anária perceive, she felt afraid for a small moment that the Lady had seen and knew all that Anária had just felt. And it was a troubling thought. It had been so intense, so private and even now as she moved forwards she could still feel it, like standing in hot summer sunshine it had been, heat and warmth had suffused her and her limbs and heart had been lighter than she could recall them ever having been.

As they approached the Lord Celeborn joined his Lady, he too wore armour, it was golden and green like Lórien incarnate. And she and Haldir stopped at the base of the hill to bow. Behind them came the last row of Wardens and all of them bowed as well.

"Here begins the last march of the Elves to war with Men." Declared Lord Celeborn, his voice carrying far over the gathering. "The Lord Elrond of Rivendell speaketh thus 'An Alliance once stood long ago between Elves and Men, the time has come to honour that allegiance once more'. You will march to Rohan with the blessing of the Lady, in six nights time at dusk you must enter the Fortress of Helm's Deep ere it be too late to save the people of Rohan and the Hope of all who live on this Middle Earth." He turned his head to his Lady. She held out her hands and he was passed a golden scabbard set with red gems that glimmered in the morning light, she passed the scabbard and sword to Lord Celeborn and he stepped forward towards Anária, the sword in its sheath across his forearms.

"Anária of the Dúnedain, in honour of a kinsman of yours who may soon be a kinsman of ours we give thee this," he held forth the sword: "this sword was found upon the slopes of Barad-dûr at the close of the Second age and was brought here, it not an Elvish weapon, but a weapon of the Faithful. Upon it is inscribed where to look to find the land of Númenor on one side." She had taken the sword and now she drew it, it was silver and bright in the morning light of the Golden Wood, and she saw upon one side an ancient inscription in Elvish that was indeed an inscription that in the common tongue read thus:

'Under the Evening Star, as the setting sun turns the Sea to Blood, there lies the Resting Place of Men. Ah Númenor!'

"And upon the other is a single word, the name of our most beloved Valar." Galadriel said, joining her Lord. "Elbereth, the Star Queen." Quietly in her mind she heard the Lady's voice continue on: 'If ever you are in need or great danger, call upon her and your heart will be steadied and fear shall stricken upon your enemies.' Anária bowed low over the blade.

"Thank you My Lord and Lady." She was touched, the blade felt perfect in her hands. She carefully sheathed it and as she did she saw a seven pointed star identical to the one that the Lady had had made into her clothing. It sat above the word Elbereth upon the blade. She bowed low once more.

Then Haldir stepped forwards. He bowed, she did not hear the words exchanged they were a blessing and command from the Lady to her Warden, then Lord Celeborn and Haldir were farewelling each other.

Then a soft hum began, the Elven warriors were singing a lament as they formed ranks to begin the march, she turned with Haldir to watch them and found she knew the words to the song, she had heard it in Rivendell, but she could not lift up her voice to join them, she stood her hand over her heart as they marched past.

_'O! Elbereth who lit the stars,_

_From glittering crystal slanting,_

_Falls with light like jewels,_

_From heaven on high ~_

_The glory of the Starry Host!_

_To lands remote I have looked afar,_

_And now to thee, Fanuilos,_

_Bright spirit clothed in ever-white,_

_I here will sing beyond the Sea ~_

_Beyond the wide and sundering Sea_

_O! Elbereth…'_

As they passed by an elf came forwards, behind him followed a white Elfhorse whose saddlery was finely made and set with silver. The headstall was decorated silver discs. The horn of the saddle was designed to hold her bow firmly while the horse was ridden, leaving the hands free while making the bow easy and quick to reach. The elf stopped but the horse continued forwards, her large eyes set upon her. She was a great Elfmare, her dark brown eyes were like liquid pools, she pranced a little as she approached, and tossed her great head. The likes of such a mare Anária had seen at Rivendell, but none so pretty as this one. She looked towards the Lady, as she had understood it they were to march to the Anduin and then along the great River upon boats, up the River Limlight and then march south. Would the elfmare board a boat? The Lady nodded slightly.

"Anária, this is Brasnora, she will bear you wherever you would ride her, even into battle and shadow." She bowed to the Lady, murmuring once more her thanks for such great gifts as had been dispensed. Turning away from the she approached the great mare, she reached up, gently stroking the great horse's neck.

"Ai Brasnora!" she said quietly to the fine horse, in response the horse made a soft whiny and turned to allow her to mount, placing her foot in stirrup and taking hold of the saddle and mane she carefully pulled her self up, upon the saddles horn there also hung a small shield of metal, and slim leather packs hung from the saddle. She lifted the small round shield upon her arm, on it was the same device of a Star above gold waves, with the leaves of Lórien in Gold upon the rim all set against blood red.

"Namárie!" The Lord called, raising his hand as did the Lady Galadriel, then they were moving south through the city behind the lines of marching, singing Elves. Many stood upon the flets and upon the ground their faces sad as they joined the song of the marching wardens, Haldir marched beside her horse who kept his pace with the Wardens with no instruction from her. The passed through the gates of the city and headed south through the woods in the morning sunshine.

She thought of late the night before, after collecting her armour she had gone to farewell her brother. The Lady spoke quietly of their belief that the Orc who had struck her brother had put some poison upon his blade, some dark creation of Evil that attacked not only the body of her brother but his will. She could see how wasted his body was when the Lady pulled back the blanket. His skin was now hot, sweat dripping from him. The Lady said it was a good sign, that his body and will were strengthened and were now fighting whatever darkness lay upon him.

Gently the Lady had asked after the Orc who had struck him, his appearance and weapons, what could she recall. She remembered the wicked looking blade he had used with a serrated edge. She thought perhaps it had some strange gleam to it, but she had not seen anymore. The Orc she had slain but not knowing of the poison and with no time she had not taken the Orcs blade, rather she had killed several more of his compatriots while she called the Horse the Orcs had not slain and urged her brother into the saddle and then she had joined him and they had set off fleeing north.

She had seen that some darkness lay upon him but no words nor strength did she have to ease it. The Lady's hands upon him had seemed to ease him while her hands were upon him. She would hold to hope that he would indeed recover; she could think of no other place that he could be in any better care save perhaps Rivendell.

After only a short while Haldir set off along the line of march at a loping run, she watched him disappear around an east Bend in the line of march. Beneath her Brasnora pranced a little, as though wishing to be after the Captain. Within a few moments one of the Elven horns called out and the Wardens responded by increasing the speed of their movement to the same distance covering but economical loping run, they naturally kept in line, and the bearers of the pennants seemed unburdened. Unbidden Brasnora leapt lightly after the Warden's keeping pace, but a toss of the proud head and a slight prance told Anária that Brasnora was fiery of spirit as her name suggested.

With a smile she gently touched the horses shoulder, brushing it with a hand to calm the horse. "Alhi* Brasnora!" She laughed softly as the horse let out a snort in reply and pranced once again before calming. Anaria looked up to see Haldir standing beside a tree, awaiting her. He was looking at her with a half smile, she wondered if he had heard her, the Elves raised no dust in their loping run, and their voices had quieted. As she came nigh he reached out and Brasnora slowed.

"Will you join me at head of the column?" he asked quietly, a smile still playing at the corner's of his mouth.

"Of course." With a last smile he turned and loped back down the trail, without a touch to the reins Brasnora took off after him, they passed quickly past the marching Elves almost into the morning sun rising in the east. They were heading for the tongue where the boats awaited them. Anária overtook the head of the column and there found Haldir he had shortened his pace to take the lead of the column, Anária touched the reins but lightly and Brasnora took her place beside the Captain, easing to a gentle trot. Despite their heavy armour the Elves ran tirelessly, unflustered by the pace. As midday came on their swift pace meant they had reached the banks of the Anduin just to the north of the tongue. There Anária dismounted as the Elves took a shot break just before midday. For two hours then they walked down to the docks upon the river, Anária walking to rest her mount. In the early spring afternoon they came to the docks, they had done a good ten miles and she felt sure they had not moved as swiftly as perhaps they could have.

Five large grey boats were anchored in the shallows, one of which was tied to the bank and had a sturdy plank which they could cross to. The boats had white sails as well as a row of oars upon each side, swiftly the Elves moved to each boat, each one knowing his place, Haldir lead her to the southernmost boat, which was the one with the plank. Without any ado he waved for her to board. After all of the Wardens were boarded he himself boarded the same boat. He moved to the prow and raised an arm. An elf next to him blew a clear high horn note and the boats pulled away from the shore. Anária was assited by two of the Elves in placing Brasnora at the rear of the boat. The horse did not seem greatly disturbed as a normal horse might, although she had made one small protest and at first her great legs shivered a little but here at the back a place prepared for the horse with a great barrel of fresh water and a bale of fresh hay next to two bags of feed. Thanking them Anária herself set about the task of removing her horses saddle and the headstall bridle.

Each of the other ships held two score Wardens, while the lead ship had only a score, plus herself, Haldir and Brasnora. A dozen elves moved to the oars of each ship and the large white sail was hoisted and a wind came from behind them, driving the ships fast and sure down the swift flowing river. Another Elf took up position at the rear of each boat to direct the ship. On the shore a dozen grey clad Wardens watched them pass, standing forwards from the shadows their arms raised in farewell. But neither words nor song did they utter, it was no leaving to be celebrated. Those who were to go had volunteered,

Without much fanfare they set out along the river. Anária did not watch the passing banks but instead paid attention to her horse, carefully rubbing her down and making the horse comfortable she took a folded grey blanket from next to the bag of feed and placed it over the beast, who had now calmed. Her limbs felt leaden, she was still affected by the days without sleep and wounds. But her training and beliefs would not allow her to rest until her animal had been cared for. The injuring of her last mount still weighed upon her mind. Bregod was alive but he was partially lame, Orophin had told her quietly when she had asked at dinner that the horse would remain in Lórien and live in calm and happiness for as long as the realm was safe and his life endured. She looked into the grey bags that one of the Elves had motioned towards as food for Brasnora.

One held oats and such like, while in the other were small apples and at the very top a handful of elanor flowers. Anária pulled them out and Brasnora made a snuffling sound.

"You want these hmm?" she held the fresh flowers to the Horses mouth and the horse took them, eating them with obvious relish. Anaria then held a handful of oats to the horses mouth which the horse also ate before turning to the bale of hay next to her. Anária felt a presence approach behind her, without turning or moving she knew it was Haldir, and she felt her feelings from that morning return in a blaze of scarlet in her cheeks. Keeping her head lowered she carefully cleaned and set the tack about. Before removing her cloak and setting it upon the white decking.

"We will not be stopping again till the dawn the day after tomorrow when we will leave the ships behind." The Captain was coming ever closer. She undid her baldric and removed it, as she did she felt hands cover hers for a moment before taking the weight of her baldric. Carefully he laid them down. "You should rest. You need not row tonight, tomorrow you can take your turn." She looked up at him and saw in his eyes and smile the understanding that she would wish to take her turn when she had strength. She smiled in gratitude and he continued to look down at her.

"Sit, rest. There is food in your saddle bags and a waterskin." She nodded, too weary from both the travel and the emotion of the last few days that she would not argue with good advice and kindness. He stood there still watching her as she placed her head upon her blanket and pulled the saddle bags close. She pulled out one of the pieces of lembas wrapped in its leaf. She pulled it out a broke a piece off. After a moments hesitation she held it out towards Haldir. He raised and eyebrow before kneeling next her to take the lembas and thoughtfully chewed it. She chewed her piece and they were both silent for a time.

"How many miles is it to Helm's deep when we disembark?" she asked finally. There had been no time for her to study any maps yet she could recall the roundabout figure. "Around two-hundred and fifty miles as the Eagle flies yes?" she asked before he could answer. He nodded, a strange gleam in his eyes as he tilted his head to look at her. "And Celebron said we had until dusk on the sixth night from this didn't he?" she continued, her questions not aimed at him but continuing a train of thought that had bothered her all morning.

"We will have to travel through the night at least two nights perhaps three. If we are lucky we shall meet no enemy parties." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Fear not, we shall not hope to luck alone, until we reach our goal we shall send out scouts on every side to ensure we are not attacked from some strange quarter."

He then cautioned her once again to sleep while she could and took his leave.

All that day and night the Elves rowed tirelessly, and along with the wind behind them they rushed down river at a great speed, they did not slow at night but did post a keen eyed watch at the front of each boat while those who could slept a little and ate. Three changes of shift were made on the oars during the night and another in the morn before Anária was allowed to take a place for one of the rowers, most of whom seemed at this moment to be unaffected by any great weariness. She herself felt it only slowly, but almost the moment she did a hand touched her shoulder, Haldir took her place, his expression brooking no argument. Finally as the afternoon sunshine began to wane the ships were beached one by one upon a small sandy beachhead. Each was drawn onto land, where hereabouts the forest was not dense and hidden.

Quickly the Elves set about a short rest period with sentries set. Then as evening came on the party was awoken, they were to march through the night and the following day. Anária walked silently amid the Elves, who often would raise their voices in song, upon one side of her walked Brasnora, her grain and some of the remaining food Anária had managed to sling in makeshift packs across the Elfmare's back behind the saddle.

Through that night and the next morning they travelled at a brisk but not breakneck pace through hilly wooded country, as the first proper day of their march wore on they came to less wooded hills and finally up a rocky slope and down another they came into the valley of the river Limlight it was before midday but they stopped and rested briefly in the warm spring sunshine before making their way down, for around an hour they travelled slowly down the river. Finally they came to a point where the colour of the water seemed different. Haldir went across first, finding his way across, then one by one in file they marched across. Anária mounted her horse for the crossing and so was the only one not marching wet to the waist. But the Elves did not find it a burden, instead they laughed and took delight in the water. Seated upon her horse on the rise upon the other bank she watched with a smile as they laughed and called to each other. Their centuries of age and the grim task ahead of them was for a moment forgotten.

"Anária!" Haldir was summoning her to the top of the ridge. Brasnora moved as soon as she moved the reins and climbed briskly to the peak of the hill, beneath lay the rolling sprawling plains of Rohan. Ten days ago she had made this journey in the opposite direction, now she would have to make it in half the time, they had only five nights and four and a half days to go until they must reach the fortress of Helm's Deep, a journey of over two-hundred and fifty miles.

It would be a great ask of any army, even an Elven one. Even as she thought this the column moved down onto the plain they re-ordered themselves, more scouts were sent forth and then the column began its march anew a quick run.

That day they covered over forty miles, stopping long after midnight had passed. They arose with first light and small bottles of miruvor and once more the column set out, at an even brisker pace than the day before. The Elves seemed to Anária to have tireless legs, they ran in full armour with weapons and packs with only few breaks. She herself rode while they ran, and then dismounted and walked when they periodically slowed to a walk, yet even Brasnora took this harsh march better than any normal horse could have, she seemed un distressed by the long march even though Anária's onld horse would have flagged if required to meet such a pace.

Once more they stopped at midnight. Having covered in Haldir's estimation over fifty miles. He said that the next day they would need to travel even more swiftly and bade her rest while she could. The next day they did not spend any periods at a walk and at Haldir's command she remained on Brasnora almost the whole day. As evening fell on the next day they arrived at the Entwade, from here they would travel westward into the gathering dark of Isengard...

To Be Continued...

* * *

~Please Review! ~


	7. Chapter 6: Fell Dreams and Grey Elves

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts!

Please review, it not only inspires the writer but any critiques are really taken to heart and if there is anything you think needs correcting/changing then please point it out. I am not the world's greatest Tolkein expert and any mistakes are completely due to ignorance!

Also, I know I promised more action but it might not be quite the kind of action you were expecting!!!

Also I would like to apologise for the pretentiousness of this chapter's title - I blame it entirely on being sleep-deprived!

Disclaimer: I own nothing – Lord of the Rings is the creation of the one and only JRR Tolkein!

* * *

Chapter 6: Of Fell-Dreams and Grey Elves

* * *

They now had three days and two nights to reach the battle. So far the scouts had seen signs of enemy activity but they had been blessed with good fortune, none had been near or recent enough to be of trouble to them. They now rested the whole night upon the banks of the river before setting out once more. Anária lay her cloak upon the ground, she felt stiff and sore, she had never before spent as much time travelling as she had the last few days, nor ever at such speed. Yet she felt so tired, her limbs ached and she felt almost as though she were ill. Each morning it was worse, and then as the time came to sleep it returned stronger.

As she lay down she heard Haldir approaching, every night she was bidden to lay herself close to the centre of their encampment as possible, then after the watch was set and the camp prepared he would appear and lay himself just feet from her, usually in silence, though occasionally he said a few words, always in Westron. No watch had she been asked to stand and when she had enquired as to why Haldir had said quietly that she was their guest and he had his orders. His blue eyes meeting hers, asking if she would challenge the commands of his Lord and Lady. She did not, in truth she knew that the Elves were better at seeing in the dark than she, would hear things before she did – not to mention she was too tired most nights to even speak. He was placing himself on the ground just a few feet away. His arms behind his head.

It was cold tonight, there were no clouds in the sky and a mournful wind blew cold from the west. She shivered a little and rolled over, pulling her legs up underneath her. She wore the green dress today, it was lighter than her armour and she knew she would need all her strength when they reached the end of their journey. Often in her mind she would see flashes of the battle that lay ahead, and when she slept strange dreams plagued her. Often she found herself dozing in the saddle, finding what rest she could there. She tucked her chin to her arms and lay upon her side, facing Haldir; she could see the outline of his face cut out against the darkness. She shivered again as the cold wind managed to cut through even her Elf-made dress.

She settled down to sleep, as she drifted off as she always did she felt dread rising within her. Dark shapes, dark things floating at the edge of her mind.

_High above some creature was wheeling, screams echoed through the darkness. In the darkness around her feet lurked creatures that tried to trip her, she stumbled away… _

_Walking through the wood, through a dark place that once in distant memory had been of light and laughter and song. Long before in memory stood another wood that had fallen into Darkness, its people destroyed or thrown out into the world at a dark hour where kin would kin before the first breaking of the world. Distant that place was in memory, but this wood, this had been at its height as he had. _

_But the wood was dark now, its light gone long ago, the great trees were falling, their children fading into nothingness, no great beauty was left in this realm. Black despair hung upon the world like a tangible thing… As it hung about him, the last of his kin to walk amongst the trees, the last Grey-Elf of the kin of Doriath to dwell in Middle Earth. And like his princess long ago his life he would relinquish, his doom grew nigh as the stars above looked down upon him, the trees that remembered him and his kind wept bitterly as they felt his passing through him, they were grieved by the loss of their keepers and they grieved him. It had been long since any word he spoke to leaf, beast or bird, longer still since any other had dared come within this realm and trouble him in the long twilight of his life that was fading ever into darkness…_

* * *

Haldir was sleeping, yet his eyes were open, watching the stars turn when he was woken by a soft whimper. He turned his head, waking after tha fashion of his people. Anária lay nearby, pulled into a tiny ball upon her cloak, her limbs were trembling, he looked closer. Her lids were open but her eyes were rolled back into her head while her body shook, and every now and again issued soft cries from her lips.

"Anária? Are you cold?" he asked softly in Westron, though he knew that the what troubled her sleep was greater than temperature alone, even though it was a cool night. He reached out a hand and placed it upon her forehead. His hand was warm against her icy skin. "Speak to me? What is wrong? How do you feel?" Her eyes rolled back, they were still wide and almost unseeing, their grey seemed leeched somhow of colour, so that her eyes were almost white apart from the dark iris'. In a shaky voice she spoke of her feeling of weariness, and that she felt it most before and after sleeping when the dreams the consumed her sleep hung upon her. At that he sat up and set both hands upon her cheeks which were pale and hollow, he had seen her weariness growing day by day and had thought it troubling but this he had not forseen, for which he cursed the many other duties that had led him to forsake her care.

"Your sleep is troubled this I knew, but these dreams of fading…" He said softly.

"My dreams… They are not my own. I feel as though they belong to another." He was frowning, his eyes troubled, a distant fear playing in his thoughts. Elves could fade, passing away into the Halls of Mandos from grief or weariness. But no human did he know could feel such a thing.

"Your flesh is so cold. It is as though…" He trailed off and was silent a moment, his blue eyes upon hers. Then he looked around, they were atop a small rise near the water's edge, the other Elves were either on watch or asleep, the important thing was they were for the moment unobserved. "My brothers overheard you speak aloud in your dreams and words too I have heard you murmur in your sleep." She swallowed, she felt like she was floating almost, as though she were tied to her body only by the slightest thread. He lifted her and cradled her against his chest, he was so warm, and alive that she felt some warmth running through her again. He made her eyes might his and set his forehead against hers:

"Hearken to me – you are cold because you are weary with sorrow and pain, hope seems to fade with every weary mile and dark thought!" He was whispering in her ear. "But what you fear shall not come to pass, I swear to you that it will not happen!" she was looking up at him and he saw that her eyes had cleared and she seemed to be warming, her shivering was all but ended. She looked up at him and saw him then, a figure in a dark forest, darkness cloaked about him, a blackness upon his brow and fear in his heart – and in the moment he saw her vision.

"Listen now:" he continued softly, "this is not certain, all things may yet come to pass, dwelling in these dreams of fear will not bring us through the dark paths before us. Have faith, there is power yet in this world for good, much of which lies in the hands of your kinsman and his allies. Trust to him, trust to me, near two ages have I dwelt in Middle-Earth and yet none of your like have I seen amongst thy kindred…" he trailed off as he saw she heard him true. He dark grey eyes had filled with tears.

"Trust in the power you have, what was given to you by right of birth daughter of kings. And trust to the gifts and wisdom of the Lady, for in your hand is the sword of the Star-Queen made when I was still young and your people were full of glory! Trust that hope will not be lost while men and elves stand together against the oncoming dark…" And then he gently laid his lips upon hers. He withdrew them and raised a hand, cradling his cheek as she had in the bathing room of his house, again he felt heat rise, but it rose from within him and warmed her hand.

"Elbereth…" she whispered her eyes closed as though in prayer and when they opened again briefly to look up at him he saw they were more peaceful. Then they closed again and he felt her go completely limp in his arms. He stayed seated with her cradled against him for a long while, occasionally pressing light kisses to her temples and every time he did so he felt her strengthen, her skin warm as it should be and colour returning to her pale face, the darkness and hollowness of he features filling out and returning to the bloom of youth.

Much of himself he put into those soft touches, and softly he whispered in her ears of peace and hope such as could in the Age of Men. Finally as she slept deeply and peacefully he set about her the great red cloak close and wrapped it gently around her, setting her upon his own cloak.

Looking down upon her he saw again her beauty. Fragile it was, the beauty of those who are mortal and live but a short time, her cheeks were fuller than he had seen before, her jaw held no tension as she slept, the long lashes of her eyes were black against her fair skin and her lips were full and red. Her hair was unbound and pooled black upon the red cloaks.

Carefully he set himself upon his back, her peaceful form slumbering in sweet dreams beside him. He returned his gaze to the stars, a smile curving his lips as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When the grey light of the oncoming dawn streaked the sky he awoke, against his neck warm air was gently being breathed. He felt an arm across his chest, the tiny hand laying above where his heart was beating, it seemed to him his heart had never beaten like this before, one moment racing with desire and excitement the next it seemed to all but stop as she made some tiny movement in his sleep and froze, afeard of waking her from sweet dreams. It was all he could do to not cry aloud in joy the thought that ran through his mind.

The Lady Anária was lying at his side and he knew she walked in dreams of his making, in a world of peace, perhaps in the Gardens of the Galadhrim, and with her in her dream he walked and he knew her heart was glad. He should probably wake her, undoubtedly some of his Warden's had already seen them but he had no thought of propriety or of what her family may think of the maiden laying against his side, an Elven Lord of the Sindarin who had been a grown Elf when her ancestors had returned from the West. Eventually he gently pulled away, she made no sound and he saw she continued to walk in peaceful dreams. He had not the heart to wake her from them.

Instead he set about his own morning preparations, he removed his tunic and washed himself in the cold water of the river. Then he drew on the gold and red raiment of the Captain of the March-Warden's of Lothlórien. He knew it had once been the formal armour of the Sindarin Captain's of Doriath, his armour had once long ago been his fathers and had been made by Dwarven hands in the dark days when the two had been friends. It was untarnished and still stronger than any other armour in the whole of Lórien.

The river bank was now busy, many of the Wardens were washing their faces or bodies, no other great body of water would they meet until the reached their goal and so waterskins were filled and absolutions made. He looked over, he saw the first golden ray of dawn touch the sky. They were to march once the sun was up and would not stop until it had gone down the next evening, they would pause when the moon waned this night, but not for more than an hour, to rest weary feet. Nearly ninety miles they must do ere they rested again. He moved back to where he had slept, the grassy knoll was touched by golden light. As he looked down upon Anária, his shadow fell across her and she stirred, her hand which had been upon his heart brushed against her face and her eyes blinked open. She blinked again, blinded by the golden sun, and she looked up at the Elven Lord as memories of the night came back and she wondered if she dreamed still. He was in that moment the antithesis of her darkest dreams. No grief weighed upon him, he stood golden in the dawn and he was smiling.

Anária saw in his eyes clearly written his feelings, his hopes, his desires and she felt her own. He leant down, his hand out stretched to help her to her feet. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, his head was bowed to look her in the eyes. Wordlessly she saw in them the confirmation of all that had passed from his lips while she dreamt and without thought she did as he had done the night before and briefly pressed her lips against his. He simply smiled at her.

"Ai Anária Dúnedain." He said softly.

"Ai Haldir…" she trailed off, he heard the unspoken question. The name Haldir was not an Elven name, it had been given to him in a war long ago as he had been found nearly dead fighting a valiant rearguard and word had been sent to his kin that he had fallen. But then reinforcements had arrived and he had been found, barely alive. Ever since in honour of his heroism as part of the rearguard, and the terrible grief in a few short days of his kin he had been named Haldir, for the Man of the House of Haleth who had fallen in the first age, before he himself had been born.

"Glorlaus Hirion." He said quietly. She frowned briefly.

"Golden-Haired Lord?" she asked after a moment. He nodded. His father had named him golden haired as he had been born with his fathers golden hair rather than the silver hair of his mother's kin who were kin of his Lord Celeborn. Hirion was the name his mother had given him, Lord it meant and some had said it was prophetic though he had never been lord of anything in his long life.

"I have long considered a kilmessë, a self-name but so long have I been called Haldir that few amongst my own people even remember my father-name or mother-name." he cocked his head slightly, looking past her. "Besides, so long have I been the faithful soldier, the last to retreat that Haldir will, I believe, long be the name I will be known by."

* * *

She smiled. "Yet to me your true name suits you best, Glorlaus Hirion." In his eyes she could see a bright spark of joy at her words. He inclined his head in a small bow. She looked around, nearby Elven Warders were conspicuously not looking at them. After a moment he spoke softly, they had only a little time before they would need to move out, she took the unspoken hint and moved a little distance along the river bank, to where she could wash in private, with her she took the red robe the Lady ahd given her. She carefully washed as much of the grime of travel from herself.

After she had washed Anária placed her armour and weapons over the robe, they had entered the westfold of Lórien, they would have to be more careful now to avoid parties of Uruk-Hai out of Isengard. But for the first time in days Hope had a greater share of her feelings than did anguish or worry. And it was hope that had been brought in the middle of a dark dream by Haldir, the golden haired Elf Lord who had held her so gently and spoken so softly. But what she most felt all through that long march towards Helm's Deep was the softness of his lips against hers, it was a kiss that asked for nothing but gave everything. Most of all it gave her renewed strength of heart, she knew now what she must do. She had seen him struck in the mirror, and she had seen his vision for their future in the dream he had whispered into her ear as she slept.

All they had to do to make a hopeful future real was to survive the coming battle, not just his survival, but her own. They must both survive. She knew now the cost of either dying, a future of grief that not even the restoration of Gondor and Arnor or the destruction of Barad-dûr would lift a heart so broken.

Survive. She could do that. Protect Haldir. She would do that. And so her will turned to iron resolve, and though she did not know it there were few things indeed in this world that would stand before her will.

* * *

~Please Review! ~

PS. Just so you know, yes I did just give Haldir a name etc… I thought he should have proper Elf names. And yes their relationship did just jump ahead. I just felt that there needed to be some connection between them before they get to Helm's Deep.

PPS. Next Chapter will have proper battle style action! Promise! Also Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Theoden and Eowyn! Very exciting!


	8. Chapter 7: Battle of the Hornburg

Daughter of Númenor

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts!

Please review, it not only inspires the writer but any critiques are really taken to heart and if there is anything you think needs correcting/changing then please point it out. I am not the world's greatest Tolkien expert and any mistakes are completely due to ignorance!

Also, once again I am only posting half a chapter... And it has a cliffhanger! Exciting!

Disclaimer: I own nothing – even though I wish I did! JRR created itt, New Line made the Film of it, I merely love it!

* * *

Chapter 7: Battle of the Hornburg

* * *

Aragorn heard a horn sounding in the distance, his head turned, it was a sweet high horn that came from outside the Deeping Wall. Behind him Legolas spoke the words that were running through Aragorn's own thoughts. "That is no Orc horn!" Aragorn was running before he could even think: those were Elven horns if ever he had heard them. As he ran out to the gateway of the Keep Wall he saw the column of Elves marching into the gate his heart swelled and the hope that he had all but lost within the dark stone of Helm's Deep. He watched them march past, he counted well over a hundred archers, and looking around he saw the same expressions upon other faces as he rushed down the steps.

"- we come to honour that Allegiance." He recognised that voice! And indeed there stood Haldir the Captain of the Marches of Lórien. He was standing proud and tall before the King of the Riddermark. The Captain turned his face to Aragorn and smiled.

"Mae govannen, Haldir!" said Aragorn, his voice overfull with  
emotion. "You are most welcome!" He gripped the surprised Elf in an embrace. As he pulled back he felt Legolas press past him to greet Haldir. As he did so the Elves of Lórien came to a halt and turned to stand behind their lord. Just then Aragorn heard another sound, the clattering of hooves upon the causeway, he looked past the ranks of Elves and saw a figure upon a great Elfmare approaching, covered by a great red cloak.

"I have one here who would speak with you Aragorn." Haldir  
motioned to the horse, who was followed by the guards who had been guarding Helm's Dike. Aragorn was confused and it showed on his face. The horse halted behind Haldir and Legolas and lowered her hood.

"Anária!" he was breathless with surprise as he saw her face looking down at him, a small smile playing upon her lips. Haldir's smile widened as he looked up at the young ranger and then back to her chieftain.

"We are proud to fight alongside men once more!" he told them as Aragorn's eyes never left his kinswoman. Theoden though was looking at those whom he had commanded to remain at Helm's Dike. Their commander was looking from his King to the young woman. Theoden turned his eyes on the young woman as she dismounted from her horse. Her dark hair was braided like an Elf's and for a moment he thought she was an Elf, an Elf-Queen out of an ancient tale. But then he saw she was not Elven but human, she was alike to Aragorn, human but of a greater line of men than any he had met before Aragorn.

Aragorn approached her as Legolas stood aside, Aragorn noted that Haldir remained standing nearby, almost protectively. His eyes not leaving Aragorn but his body protectively turned towards Aragorn's kinswoman.

Anária dismounted and turned to look upon her Chieftain. He seemed weary and almost unbelieving, as though he feared they were a dream that might depart at any moment. He looked into her face; he did not remember sending such a creature south. She had pleaded to go, and while something inside him was inclined to send her another part of him whispered that she was still a child in many ways, she had seen skirmishes and raids but never had she travelled more than a few weeks from Imladris after the age of seven when she was brought there. As he had debated it in his mind he had seen a look on Elrond's face and after taking council with the Elf Lord he acquiesced to her desire, though why it was so important to the Lord of Imladris that she go he had not been told. Now he thought he perhaps knew a little of that reason.

She was taller and fairer than he remebered, her eyes were bright and within her he sensed something had been awoken. As a spark to tinder something had lit a fire in her that shone through her eyes, she was no longer the gifted girl he had sent south, something had turned her into a powerful woman. And as Aragorn gazed upon her he sensed something else, at her side Haldir had cast aside the pretence of simple Warden of the Marches of Lórien. He was a Lord, great and powerful, loyal and compassionate.

And Aragorn saw in his eyes something that greatly unnerved him when he saw those eyes turn upon Anária. Aragorn looked upon Anária and was unsure whether he felt pride and happiness for her or terrible sorrow for the difficulties she would face in her future. But at that moment he had little time to ponder his kinswoman's future as Theoden was bidding them enter the keep's hall so that the battle plan could be re-set to allow for the additional forces.

They assembled quickly, the commanders standing quietly as Theoden looked over them. Firstly he addressed the commander of the outer defenses who had brought his men within the keep against previous orders. But before the man had a chance to de any more than say "Theoden-King, I-" when he was interrupted. Anária stepped forward from between Haldir and Aragorn.

"It was I my Lord King who bid him leave his post and hurry back to the keep." She looked briefly at her Chieftain before continuing, his face was impassive, his thoughts closed even to her. "The host that approaches are not simple orcs or men, they are diverse and terrible. And the worst of all come in the vanguard. The Uruk-Hai of Saruman." She paused again this time it was to Haldir she looked and he closed his eyes briefly, a silent assent to her continuing. "I have seen what is to come, and if we do not hold Helm's Deep it will be the end of Hope for Men and few there may be who could survive the darkness that would then encompass all the lands of Middle Earth." She looked into Theoden's eyes, trying to impart understanding to a noble man who she knew would little like her commanding his troops for him. "Little good will it do us if they fell there, but much good they may yet do upon the walls of your Keep." Theoden's eyes narrowed.

"I hope you will forgive these men if their action has displeased you, they have done only as I entreated, and I acted thinking only of the best interests of your people." Theoden was silent a moment.

"How have you 'seen'? What have you 'seen'?" his words were quiet and deep, his eyes troubled.

"She has the gift of foresight, as do all our kin, though it runs stronger and deeper in different families. Anária has long been considered wise in these matters, even by Gandalf." Aragorn spoke swiftly, his words were taken with soft murmuring amongst the lords of Rohan. One whisper rose above the rest

"And she has seen our doom?" Anária turned her head, meeting the eyes of Gamling whos face was pale.

"I have seen many things. Few things are certain, but I do not believe that while the courage of men holds this keep will fall." Her words were said in a clear sweet voice, and she smiled at them, and their hearts seemed somehow eased and all around the room fear eased just a little.

As he saw this Aragorn felt a chill upon his skin thinking of a he had had months earlier in the study of Lord Elrond…

* * *

"_South?" Gandalf's voice was worried. "Elrond…" the Elven Lord and the Wizard shared a look that Aragorn did not know the meaning of._

"_Indeed. South She has gone, and at her own instigation - and with my blessing." Said Elrond, his eyes never looking to Aragorn, but bearing upon Gandalf whos face had grown even more troubled than it had been – of that was possible. _

"_Great peril may await not only her and the fellowships there. I believe that more good will come of her presence there than evil. She is changing Gandalf. The world is changing. She has always been set upon a path that twists beneath her feet, her gift pulling her first one way and then another…. We have spoken of it before…" Aragorn remained silent. These discussions he had sometime been present at._

"_And forget not, Gandalf, the words of Elendil. 'in her will be the glory of Númenor undimmed!... She shall herald the coming of the King!' Few indeed heard those words, I am fortunate to have spoken with one who heard the prophecy as we marched. Otherwise it may long ago have been dismissed." And at this Elrond's eyes fell upon Aragorn._

" ' _Hope seems to linger in darkness, in doubt'…" Aragorn heard the rebuke in those soft words._

"_She may yet be a herald in more ways than one, and she may find the light of Númenor within herself and few there are alive today who can claim they have that power within themselves!" Elrond stood and moved to a large window that faced south west, Aragron saw him look out it towards the south, his eyes looking far into the distance as though he could catch a glimpse of Anária._

"_No Gandalf. I do not fear for her life. I fear for what she would not become if she does not go south…" he continued in an undertone, almost speaking to himself. "Many there are who would benefit from being in the company of Anária at the height of her powers. Heights that can only truly be scaled by being tested in battle…" Elrond turned, and the setting sun that streamed through the western window seemed to turn the room to ruddy red, in a glowing vindication of the Elven Lord's words…_

* * *

"… and the rest of the archers behind the wall to fire when those upon the wall are engaged in combat. Are we all agreed?" Aragorn shook himself. He acknowledged Theoden with a nod of his head. He had heard dimly the words being said and he thought back over them. Now with the Elves arrived they would have more than enough manpower to properly man the battlements and even to have some companies in reserve if the wall should be gained or, Valar forbid, breached.

He nodded and then turned to Anária as the others filed out of the room. Haldir however remained, hovering near the door. Aragorn gave him a brief glance before returning to scrutinising his knswoman.

"You are weary Aragorn." She said softly, her eys running over his appearance critically.

"So are you." He replied. She smiled and he felt his own lips smile in response although his heart was heavy. "Valar protect you." He said softly brushing his lips against her brow.

"And you My Lord." She replied. Taking his hands into her own she lightly pressed her lips to his hands. She looked up at him, her grey eyes bright with both anticipation and tears. She flung he arms around him almost as he had done to Haldir earlier. Then he felt her move her head, her breath against his ear.

"Lady Galadriel bade me tell you, the love of the Evenstar is as constant as her light! Have faith!" then she pulled back, a single tear had fallen down her cheek. Aragron nodded and pulled her close again, a hand cradling her face.

"If I do not live…" She made a frantic little shake of the head. But he stilled her be holding her head still. He glanced towards Haldir. "Know that knowing true happiness in the time allotted to you is the only gift we have." She nodded, understanding his words and he saw her eyes shine with gratitude and happiness even through her sorrow.

"We should go now, and prepare." Said Haldir's deep voice from the doorway.

Aragorn looked up and nodded, he allowed Anária to go before him and as he reached the door he looked at Haldir and nodded, smiling a little, though it was a melancholy smile. Haldir raised an eyebrow briefly and then bowed deeply. Acknowledging Aragorn's silent, hesitant, approval of the feelings the two had developed. With a final almost melancholic look at the Elven Lord and a brief touch of his Kinswoman's shoulder Aragorn parted from them, he needed to attend to the placement of some of those he had been given command of and speak with the king briefly. He would see them upon the wall he knew, ere battle commenced...

* * *

For Anária the majority of the battle was blur, she was firing her bow, then an Uruk loomed above a nearby Warden and he was struck down, she drew back her bow and shot him at almost point blank range. The twang of the bow of the Galadhrim strangely loud to her ear. Around her chaos reined. And then slowly the forces on the wall seemed to be almost gaining on the Uruk's, fewer of them were gaining the wall. The Elves were fighting valiantly, each taking down many foes. She stepped back as two Warden's rushed up the stairs and stepped past her, she had heard Haldir call for them from those who waited below. With slight irritation she realised he had ordered them to stand in front of her, to defend her. Although that feeling was rapidly replaced with a glow of gratitude as not one but two huge Uruk's managed to come over the wall. She slung her bow around herself and drew her sword. Stabbing a killing blow past a Warden who was struggling against a truly enormous Uruk, together they managed to throw him back over the wall, onto an Uruk who was half way up the same ladder, who then also fell with a further shove they toppled the ladder from the wall.

"Legolas! Shoot him!" she heard the cry in the Elvish tongue but she had no ability to see what or who was being reffered to as she and the two elves sent to her side were engaged by two uruk who had cut down several wardens to heir right, behind them another uruk had just appeared at the top of the wall. She once again slashed out around a Warden, barely missing him but cutting deep into the Uruk who already had the Warden's blade in his side but had reached great hands out and had been attempting to strangle the Warder.

With a howl the creature let go of the Warder, who stumbled backwards, weapon less.

Aragorn was still shouting but Anária could barely hear him. She pushed forwards. And inspiration striking her, these creatures felt her sword's edge more keenly than they felt others. So instead of aiming for great blows she struck again and again, cuts and scratches upon their skin. The creatures howled at each cut – even if they were not deep – and so she found the other elf also retreated as the Uruk's were backing away before her, their hideous faces twisted with fear and loathing of her silver blade and glittering armour. Out of the corner of her left eye she saw a spark, something heading for the wall a few meters in front of her. Then everything around her exploded and she felt herself lifted into the air…

* * *

~Please Review~


	9. Chapter 8: Elveacrist

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts!

Please review, it not only inspires the writer but any critiques are really taken to heart and if there is anything you think needs correcting/changing then please point it out. I am not the world's greatest Tolkein expert and any mistakes are completely due to ignorance!

Just two notes:

Firstly on the whole 'why doesn't Anária know about this or that?' Well no one ever sees everything. If they did then Gandalf would have stopped Pippin looking in the Palantir, or Elrond wouldn't have allowed Boromir to go or any number of other things that could have been 'foreseen' but weren't. The ability to see doesn't mean you will see everything. Think about the two futures Anária saw at the beginning of this story. Both were hazy and indistinct. To me is she had gone the other way she would have met up with Aragorn, the whole party would have passed over the river after Boromir's treachery, Aragorn would have died and then one by one the fellowship – including Anária and Legolas would have been destroyed by the ring. Rohan and Gondor would have been destroyed, and the ring would have survived. But she didn't know what exactly would happen, it was just a feeling. Like Aragorn's feeling at the gate of Moria that Gandalf would not pass again through its gates. He didn't he was reborn and carried away be eagle which was a good – while Aragorn feared it would be a bad.

Secondly, I have almost totally re-written this chapter. The reviewers were totally right, it was written in haste and not properly proofread or complete. Sorry about that And I will try no to do it again! Sometimes I am just so desperate to get the next part of the story out that it doesn't get finished properly, I'm not sure every fault or wrong spelling has been caught(I hate Spellchecking and I'm not very good at it) but at least this version is more fleshed out and, I think, flows better. So far on this story I had avoided that bad habit but it popped up again with the original version of this chapter – for which I apologise again!

Disclaimer: I own nothing – Lord of the Rings is the creation of the one and only JRR Tolkein!

* * *

Chapter 8: Elveacrist

* * *

Her ears were ringing. Like a wet dog she shook her head, her eyesight sparkled with lights… Then she saw it. Less than fifty meters away, in just a few minutes. Haldir would be struck. She rolled onto her side, trying to return to her feet. She realized dimly that somehow she still held her sword. It felt as though her fingers were stuck to the handle. She managed to start crawling. She had to move… had to get to… to where? Suddenly in front of her she saw a pair of heavy iron boots. She looked up, it was as if the world had slowed to a crawl as she swayed on her knees; the Uruk turned its great head and looked down at her. She could feel a warm wetness that was cooled by the night air upon her face, blood she realised, was running down the side of he face from the temple, she could feel where it was soaking the collar of her robe. Suddenly and elf reared over the Uruk, The guard who had first fallen back behind her, he slashed out with his sword. Piercing the armour of the Uruk. The other elf she realized must have been the one she had struck after the explosion. She should check if he was hurt, but the ringing in her ears distracted her as the Elf who had saved her came forwards.

He was pulling her to her feet, speaking rapidly in elvish about her needing medical attention, he would take her to the keep. He pulled her along, she was dimly aware of Warden's turning to pass her, the wall was being overrun by enemies. One reared up ibefore them, but it was attacked viciously from behind, she saw and elf who had lost his sword plung a broken arrow head into the beasts neck again and again, wordless shouts coming from his mouth. She was pulled away, pulled past, as she did she saw the hilt a gnarled black dagger was thrust into the attacking elf's right side. Other warden's nodded to the one pulling her along and suddenly she understood. They were hanging back to guard her line of retreat back to the keep.

"Nan Barad! Hadlir! Nan Barad!" Ahead Haldir was motioning to some of his Warden's who were closer to him, past him they were moving, and she felt herself pulled along by the flow. He barely glanced at her but she saw his eyes flicker over her face and then he was turning away, gripping his sword tightly. Past him other Elves were now coming, following his orders without question, others stayed until the las possible moment, gurading the retreat of others, Haldir amongst them.

With sudden clarity she knew it would happen now, if she went within he would fall. She stopped. Stopped everything. For a moment she fanicied even her blood paused in its racing, and so did all the world around her. Her halt had caught the elf accompanying her by surprise, he turned wide eyes upon her, unsure what the problem was. He heart was heavy and sick rose to her mouth, the Wardens behind them were, in a way, dying for her, dying for her kind. Those who should walk in light and beauty eternally were falling back, giving up their immortal existence for her. To honour them she should go forwards, she should not fight the Elf who was pleading with her in his own tongue to go on, pulling at her gently, trying to coax her down the stairs that stood nearby, down which a few Elven Warden's were already rushing. Below, she saw more Elves, some guarded the foot of the stairs watching as the fighting came closer, step by step, blow by blow the Uruk-Hai and Orcs and wildmen were pushing the defenders back. Those who fled the wall did not immediately seek the safety of the keep, the joined the cordon below, as others heleped the wounded up the stairs. All around her heroism and bravery was falling into darkness.

Behind her Haldir repeated Aragorn's words. "Nan Barad!" She knew he had glanced behind him and saw her pause. The Elf next to her was speaking still, but she heard him not. He tried to pull her forwards again, begging her to move. She pushed his hand away with more force than she intended and he almost stumbled. She barely cared, standing completely still, she turned her eyes upwards, far above the clouds had shifted, taking the rain into the mountains, away to the north west stars were peeking from behind the skirts of the dark clouds. Like a balm to her thoughts they were, their light twinkling so bright, once more her legs began to move of their own volition, even the ringing in her ears had faded, though the roar of the battle was as far away as ever. Clear as a horn she heard him, almost before he spoke.

"Nan Barad! Get her to the keep now!" Haldir was shouting, he had seen the blood as she had been half-carried past and she knew he feared she was badly wounded. He was going to do as had done before, remain behind, the last rearguard, he would ask no other to do this task – he never had. There was no time now to reach Haldir, she knew it was too late to return to his side, she pulled away from her Elven guard, turning to look back. She saw the way he launched himself at one Uruk, and would be unable to reach him before the next Uruk could launch an attack, in a flash she saw it all in her minds eye, the first blow, Haldir dazed and wounded unable to defend himself from another blow, the bewilderment and pain on his face as he fell. She had no time – and then she knew; she knew what she must do.

And with the grace of a deer she leapt past another Elf who had joined the first in trying to get her back into the keep, whose safety was just a few dozen steps away, she darted back down the wall, past an Uruk who had just mounted the battlement and turned to cut her down. Just as Haldir moved to engage the first Uruk, where his blade would become stuck and he would be defenseless for the precious few seconds the next Uruk would need to strike She jumped.

Light as a feather she landed on the wall, her mind as clear and bright as the starlight that would frame her if any from the keep had looked out at her in that moment. Her tired limbs and aching head were refreshed, for in her mind she heard the words of the Lady of the wood. 'If ever you are in need or great danger, call upon her… and fear shall be stricken upon your enemies.'

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" she cried in a loud voice, raising the bright sword of her ancestors above her head with both hands. She was as surprised as any other when it burst into brilliant white flame and for a moment the Uruk upon both the wall and crawling beneath it were distracted, all across the battlefield there was a pause, the Uruk seemed as though they were struck by the cry. Fear entered them as it had not when faced with bright steel, For now upon the wall stood a figure bathed in white light, and in her hand was the light of the stars brought down as if to smite them. Like all Orc-kind they hated all light, even the light of star and moon they loathed for they loved the dark deep places of the world and this was it seemed to them an accursed light that ripped at their very flesh with invisible whips.

* * *

Haldir heard the cry just as he saw the Uruk sword begin its deadly swing towards him, for a moment only that swing hesitated and he almost managed to avoid the blow, the metal of his armour buckled, pain filled his side, but a bright white light was shining upon his enemy, distracting and disorientating the creature, who tried to shield his face. Haldir wrenched at the stuck blade of his sword and finally it came free. He had been too occupied with the retreat of his Warden's and Anária to be able to properly aim the blow and his sword for that brief moment had been wedged just as a second unseen enemy approached, he quickly struck that enemy and turned. He had heard the cry, and in his heart he knew that it was Anária, her voice sweet and clear, more like the song of nightingale than the voice of any woman born of man.

He looked upon her then and saw the starlight kindled not only on her blade but on her brow, great and terrible she was, a Queen of Men and a Captain of the West, fire of Valda in one hand and retribution in the other, and upon her brow sat foresight. An Uruk who had been behind him was turning away, cringing from the light and Haldir struck him also, but he could feel his strength fading, he looked up at her even as he heard her kinsman cry his name. She was looking at him, tears ran down her face mingled with water and sweat and yet tears they were, as she met his eyes the strength that had been called anew into her limbs fled, he saw her then, the fire wavered like a ripple on water and the white light faded.

But ever after in the darkest depths of the world Uruks muttered of the Elven queen upon the wall, her bright eyes and fearsome sword of star-fire that burned their eyes. And ever after in the tales of the men of Rohan was the Lady of the North who brought with her the blade of Elbereth, the Star Queen whose fire saved many lives as those fleeing the Uruk rushed to safety in the moments they were spared attack.

And then Aragorn was there beside him, grabbing his arm, as was Anária, she went straight pas them, her face lit by her sword and light in her eyes. An Uruk turned and leapt aside off the wall to avoid her, Haldir almost fancied it was the expression upon her countenance even as much as her glittering sword that caused this act of desperation.

"Quickly!" Aragorn cried, motioning to his kinswoman to lead the way. She did so, cutting down another Uruk who raised his sword to attempt to defend himself – but too late – they were now recovering from the malaise brought about by the light from Anária's blade. Aragorn supported Haldir and they ran down the wall, "Dúnedain!" she cried again, she seemed so great and glittering and terrible that the Uruk almost fell back before her and her bright blade swung so swiftly that those who did find the courage to stand against her did do so for long. Rushing down the steps and across to the great winding stair back to the keep, Aragorn hauled Haldir up them.

Anária now paused, standing at the bottom of the steps as others rushed past her. Guarding the retreat, seeing her some of the Orcs and Uruks hung back instead of pursuing their targets. Finally as the last one she could see rushed past her she swung a mighty blow that split the helm of an Uruk who had come too close, then she turned and sprinted up the stairs, but her strength was flagging, her head was light and dizzy. She felt as though she might slip and fall, in the starlight and torchlight she could not see the patches of slippery blood, but she felt them as she staggered the last few precious steps. Finally she was before the oaken door that guarded this entrance to the keep, she paused once more; turning to face her enemy she cried out to them.

"Elbereth's light guard these doors!" she cried in the Elvish tongue and the sword flared again, a flicker of its previous brilliance, and the Uruk's paused, hunkering as far back from her as they could. Some made howling noises that would have piteous except that in their fear was also hatred and anger.

"Inside now!" cried Aragorn from behind her, where he was supporting Haldir, and she turned and ran within. The great door slamming shut behind her. Aragorn and an Elf were all but carrying Haldir down the steps, within. At the bottom he led them to the hall of the keep, a grim stone replica of the hall at Medusuld. There Aragorn put Haldir down, he looked briefly at her and then motioned to those who had accompanied them, a score of elves who had followed them to the hall, following their captain, with barely a word to his kinsman except the muttered order 'Stay here!' he led them out through the great set of double doors banded with steel, headed for the gate of the Hornberg.

* * *

Anária carefully knelt at Haldir's side, looking by the flickering torchlight at his wounded side. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes were closed and for a brief second she thought he laid upon his bier in a great dark forest filled with sorrow and fear. But that was not real. She shook off the image, forcing herself to think practically. She looked around the stone hall and saw that on a small sideboard there were pitchers and goblets. She stood and hurried to them as rapidly as her spinning head would allow. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw there was both wine and water. She took a pitcher of each in one arm and balanced a goblet on top. With the other she grabbed a candle lamp that sat there unlit.

With her booty she made her way back to Haldir's side. Depositing the wine and water pitcher's near his head she lit the flame of the small lamp from one of the small braziers that were set beside the dais to warm the king in his cold keep.

Carefully she poured out a measure of wine, she became aware that Haldir was watching her, she looked at him, his eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. She gently slipped her left hand under his head, and then lifted it, cradling his head gently she lifted the wine, wordlessly holding the goblet to his lips. he swallowed the measure, his eyes closing and then opening again as she gently laid his head back down. She moved her hands to the rent in the armor, blood was still seeping through, and gently as she could she began unbuckling it. He gasped and she stopped immediately. Tears fell from his eyes and tracked down his temples and he reached for her hands and caught them in his and pulling them away from the armor and the wound.

"Stop. Wait." His words were soft, she could hear how much pain he was in. The small hall seemed somehow muffled from the sound of the battle. She shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes as she saw the pain etched on his face.

"I need to do this Haldir." She pulled her hands away, gripping the pitcher of water. Carefully she balanced it above the wound. He gritted his teeth and turned his face away. She needed to wash the wound and remove his amour to bind it, both the washing and removal would hurt him greatly. She poured half the pitcher over the amour and wound, hoping it would loosen any blood that was beginning to dry and stick the fabric under the amour to his skin. She reached again for the buckles. But once more he grabbed her hands and pulled them away; pulling them to his lips he brushed kisses gently against her bloody knuckles.

"I want to say… Before it is too late. I want to tell you…" She shook her head fiercely, tears falling from her eyes.

"It is not too late, Haldir! The wound is deep but it is not fatal!" He hushed her with a shake of his head. "This castle is falling, and I must speak now." He was holding her hands against his chest. Thumbs gently rubbing at her bloodstained hands.

"I love you, as I did not know I could love." He could feel the pain in his side, it was fading, he had to concentrate – focus on her face; his feelings. She was shaking her head, more tears falling upon her face, her lips trembling. He could feel that tremble in her hands. His side was fire and agony, but that was nothing to the pain he knew would come if the castle fell. The Uruk-Hai would spare no one and nothing, and even her sword with its bright flame and the power of her will would not be enough to save him. She was looking at him with her grey tear filled eyes, her breaths coming in great sobs. She had not spoken nor replied to his words, she only looked at him. Then as though she could not bear to any longer, she bowed her head.

"Please – let me… let me fix this and then we an talk?" she said, working hard to keep her voice steady.

"No. The Hornbury will fall soon, I will need my armour then. It will do little good to remove it now. Listen to me-"

"No! You listen. This is not the end, your giving up – you, I... Haldir!" her words were low and broken, he reached up his hand, hushing her.

"We may not have much time, and even if we do this is still something that in time I would wish…" she shook her head. There was fear in her eyes, she did not want to admit they only had a short amount of time left.

"There is… a ceremony. I wish… Will you pledge yourself to me?" her head lifted, and she took two great gasping breaths. He could barely breathe, her eyes were full of shock and fear. He knew it was too soon, too sudden, but if the evil outside was about to sweep them away he wished to act now. His spirit would not rest in Mandos if this did not happen, he could feel it; A need that thrummed through his spirit and body.

"I…" She paused. Her eyes still a chaos of grey storm clouds she looked away from him, outside the battle thrummed and roared, occasionally a high piercing scream rent the air. He could almost see what she was thinking, she was thinking of the possibility of survival. The hope that had been awakened in her just days before was still in her. The power awakened in full only a short while before was whispering in her ear. She could survive. They could survive – and what would happen then?

He could see all the doubt inside her, half formed fears about a tomorrow that might not even come, and about a present that was all too real. Finally she looked back at him. Her eyes looking at him, really looking at him, he saw in her eyes the same trust and feeling he had seen for that bright moment at dawn in Lórien, and upon the banks of the Entwade. And then she spoke.

"I will." She said, her voice broken and ragged from tears. But amidst the pain and sadness he heard something else, determination and hope, and it filled his heart to bursting.

"Then listen to my words and when I have finished speak as I have done and it will be so." His voice was shaking a little as he took her hands and placed her left hand against his heart, placing his in the same place upon her chest, and resting his right palm against her cheek and she did the same. For moment the were still, she was hovering over him, beautiful in spite of the blood that had smeared her face and the dirt in her hair, she seemed to become to his eyes as he had seen her in Lórien in that precious moment – bravery and humility perfectly balanced with a fine mind and a compassionate, beautiful soul – and he loved her ever more, his very spirit burning for her. And in those grey eyes he saw her feelings mirrored his.

"I, Haldir Glorlaus Hirion, Warden of Lórien do swear myself to you, Anária Dúnedain. By Elbereth I pledge to you my love and faithfulness throughout eternity." As he spoke his words strengthened him, his voice became deeper and stronger.

"I, Anária Dúnedain, of the house of Anárion, do swear myself to you, Haldir Glorlaus Hirion. By Elbereth I pledge to you my love and faithfulness throughout eternity." Her voice broke and craced over the final word, the words of an Elvish pledge meant for those who would live forever.

Outside the cry went up: "They have broken through! The castle is breached. Retreat!"

* * *

~Please Review!~

I apologise again for the 'bad' version put up earlier! Please let me know what you think of this version.


	10. Chapter 9: Look to the East

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Short Chapter but I hope you enjoy it. I needed to finish off the battle so we can move on to the aftermath...

Please review, it not only inspires the writer but any critiques are really taken to heart and if there is anything you think needs correcting/changing then please point it out. I am not the world's greatest Tolkien expert and any mistakes are completely due to ignorance!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien invented the story and the languages, and the Elvish I use comes from the lovely site called Nevrast! You should check it out!

* * *

Chapter 9: Look to the East…

* * *

Anária and Haldir stirred, Anária quickly wiping the tears from her face as soldiers and Elves came rushing into the room, many immediately left again, going upstairs to reinforce the door above. Aragorn came in almost last, looking briefly at them, he nodded when he registered that she had remained as he had ordered. Haldir gripped her arm.

"Help me up." She looked at him for a long moment, her face pale and pinched tight with fear and apprehension. But with a jerk she pulled herself to her feet. Imperiously she waved to two elves who stood nearby, both showed signs of small wounds. The came forwards and stopped before her, inkling their heads to her.

"Stand here, guard Haldir." She ordered quietly in Sindarin. He made as if to protest, raising his head and opening his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look over her shoulder. He lay his head back down, her eyes were full of fire, her chin set with determination; she would save them, save him. He let her go; she turned and joined the efforts of those bracing the doors, including the members of the Fellowship.

Haldir looked up as the king of Rohan drew close, the King was wounded and he looked around, wounded soldiers crouched against the walls or were laid out upon the floor, those who were able to were assisting in barricading the doors of the hall, while the walking wounded moved their more wounded companions closer to the back and walls of the room so that if – no when, the enemy broke through they would not be under foot. Haldir motioned to his guard's, carefully they helped him sit, Haldir looked up into the eyes of the King of Rohan and saw blackest despair in them. And when he spoke it was with a voiced laced with that despair.

"The fortress is taken. It is over." The King was looking into mid-air, his eyes dim and unseeing. Aragorn's voice rang out, and angry response to the loss of hope which seemed to grip the men around him.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it!" He was helping Legolas carry a long wooden bench to the door to stack with the other items of furniture in the room to form a barricade. Aragorn turned, he glanced around at the wounded most of whom still held their weapons. "They still defend it. They have died defending it!" Haldir felt a spasm in his heart, the faces of so many of his men who had seen lying upon the cold stone, so far from their homes in the woods, so far from their Lady and their loved one's. He could hear Aragorn's rebuke, even sharper than the rebuke in Anária's eyes. To give up hope of survival now would make those sacrifices in vain.

Aragorn came closer. "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Théoden did not respond, his eyes still focused on some distant vision no one else could see. "Is there no other way?" Aragorn was all but shouting, his voice urgent, insistent, for a brief second he saw Aragorn's eyes flicker over his kinswoman. And then Haldir saw it, Aragorn was not only thinking of those below in the caves, but of her, Anária. He was looking for a way for others to survive. He had hope that if some could survive all would not be lost. Finally one of Théoden's retainer's spoke.

"There is one passage. It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many." Haldir, looked at the man, he did not know his name, he was fiar and bearded. His voice too seemed without hope.

"Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass. And barricade the entrance!" As the man turned to leave Aragorn kept a grip on his shoulder, Aragorn was looking to Anária. "You must go to." She was shaking her head.

"We will need to give them time! I can help buy them time!" He shook his head, his face was turned from Haldir's but he could hear the anguish in his voice.

"They will need help, leaders. They will not survive to be rescued if…" Suddenly Aragorn paused. As he did Théoden spoke, still unseeing or hearing of those around him.

"So much death…" The others looked towards him, Aragorn's head whipping round. "What can Men do against such reckless hate?" The Rohirrim were looking to their Lord with fear and doubt upon them, despair made their courage disappear and Haldir heard some begin to weep.

* * *

Aragorn looked around him, there was so much despair, how could he fight if his companions had no faith, if they could not look to their King for courage then where could they look… Gamling was shifting under his hand. Absently Aragorn nodded at him, the women and children had to start moving now, otherwise they would not make it far enough away to await rescue. Rescue…

Gandalf! Aragorn looked suddenly to an eastern window, the slitted window designed to be of use to bowmen was filling with a golden glow, the dawn was coming! Aragorn felt a wild hope fill him; there was a chance, just a chance…

"Ride out with me!" His voice was so low and commanding that Théoden was broken from his reverie. Aragorn saw something stirring in the King's eyes. "Ride out and meet them!" The King almost smiled, but it was no smile of hope, it was a bitter twisted thing that distressed Aragorn to see.

"For death and glory?" Aragorn shook his head at the King, trying to convey his hope, without raising them to high he spoke low and urgently.

"For Rohan! For your people…" Behind him Anária spoke up from beside the door.

"For the Hope of men!" he turned to look at her, she was looking at him with a wild determination set upon her face, the blood on her face had dried along her brow and cheek, it gave her a look of ferocity her own features never could have. In her eyes shone hope however, unadulterated by bitterness or despair, and beside her Gimli spoke, his deep voice reverberating through the room.

"The sun is rising." Gimli was looking at Aragorn, a knowing look upon his face, his eyes too held hope. Aragorn nodded, as he looked once more to the golden window his hope became elation an joy as he heard a voice speak softly in his head. 'Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn... Look to the east.'

Behind him Théoden knew nothing of Aragorn's hope, that as they rode out a white rider would appear, the King of the Mark was still thinking of a glorious death, not of a hope for salvation.

"Yes...The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep one last time!" Anária moved away from the door and went to a pair of broad doors behind the throne to its right. Pulling them open she stepped aside and raised two fingers to her lips and blew a shrill whistle. The sound of neighing came from the stables within the keep, the horses were kept in an indoor corral.

Within a few moments the horses that had been corralled came into the room, led by Brasnora, they were the horses of the King's retainers and closest Lord's amongst them came Brego, the horse that had rescued Aragorn, and the horse Legolas and Gimli had ridden on before, Hasufel. Brasnora however was unrivalled amongst them, alone of them Brasnora carried no bit, nor was her saddle little more than a comfort for her rider. If she so wished it she could carry you without headstall or saddle and with a just touch of the knees or a whisper in Sindarin she would obey her rider's command's.

As the horses were assembled and made ready Théoden moved forwards and placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together!" Aragorn nodded to the King, and then turned back to his horse, over it's back he saw Anária, she was standing on the other side of Brasnora, looking to the back of the hall, tears in her eyes. Aragorn looked along the path of her eyes and saw Haldir. He was now sitting on the throne of Théoden, either side stood an Elf. Aragorn paused a moment, even wounded and weak Haldir was every inch the lord as he sat upon the seat of the King. Across his knees was a sword one of his men had found, but it was his face that struck Aragorn most. His lordly face was radiating hope, and even more so love. Aragorn looked back to his kinswoman, her face had broken into a tremulous smile. She nodded briefly at Haldir, a single tear escaping her reddened eyes. Almost at the same moment they mounted their horses.

Aragorn had no time to spare, no words to speak to his kinswoman. Suddenly the King's voice rose, strong and fell amongst them.

"Fell deeds, awake! Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red dawn!" As he ended the horn of Helm Hammerhand blew a might blast and the door finally splintered. "Forth Eorlingas!" cried the King, the Rohirrim roared, and on the King's right flank a great white horse leapt before the others.

"Elbereth galad nin rád!*" And the host came alongside her, upon the cause way shone a great white light, and the Uruk-hai, dismayed, fell back before them. Legolas raised his own words to the Star-Queen upon the left, the bow of the Galadrim adding its song to his words.

And to the east came an answer. Upon the high ridge a white light shone, looking Past Anária's glittering blade as it slashed and thrust Aragorn saw a figure upon the hill to the east, a great white horse reared up, surrounded by light.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn felt a smile upon his face as from the east came a great charge… And from the north came a great rustling, as a forest sprung up amidst the night blocked the valley. Trapped by the charge from the causeway and by the charge from the east the creatures of Saruman fled, and very few there were who escaped to speak, and of them none ever came back to Isenguard, or went into Mordor for as soon as they could they found the deepest, darkest hole possible and hid from the light of the blade ever after known as Elveacrist to men, 'the blade like the stars', and they soon forgot that the blade had shone by magic and instead attributed it's glow to being a reflection of the stars.

But the Elves remembered, and to them it was Gilgaladmegil, and the one who wielded it was remembered as arwen Aurëiel, the lady of sunlight who wielded the sword of starlight.

Thus ended the battle of Helm's Deep, in the War of the Ring.

* * *

*Elbereth, light my path!

* * *

~Please Review~


	11. Chapter 10: Upon the Twilight Path

Daughter of Númenor

* * *

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added my story to the favourites or story alerts! And special thanks to those who have been reading from the very start!

I apologise that this part has taken such a long time. This will be the final chapter, there will then be an epilogue and then a new story to follow their story through ROTK.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien invented the story and the languages, and the Elvish I use comes from the lovely site called Nevrast! You should check it out!

* * *

Chapter 10: Upon the Twilight Path

* * *

Gandalf looked about him, he was at the base of the causeway, all around were scattered bodies, and even exhausted as they were the Riders of Rohan were scouring them for their kin, and some where even beginning to clear away the bodies of their attackers. Sadder to his eyes were the women who had emerged from the caves with a sad sort of grace as they searched amongst the bodies both within and without the wall for their loved ones. Husbands, brothers, sons… Gandalf sighed, the price of war had ever seemed to high a price to him. He had never wished it on anyone.

"Mithrandir!" He turned his head at the call, a great grey mare of Elven breeding was approaching. He had seen her before, during the battle and he had felt a great lifting of hi heart as he had seen them, Aragorn and Anária, children of men of the oldest line they were like spring to his heart, and to see her thus, in battle like a Great Warrior Queen of old was a balm to his weary heart. Elrond had been right she was the glory of Númenor undimmed and now she was revealed not only to those who would take courage from such as she and Aragorn, but to their enemies. But there was one in particular Gandalf hoped would take strength from her, Aragorn had ever been fond of her. She had been strangely fey when first brought to Rivendell, and he knew Aragorn had spent many hours speaking with her. All that she had told Aragorn Gandalf suspected she never remembered for before she had grown to the age reason she had dreamt with her eyes open to the world and many things had she said.

Of a great war, and hope and the Age of Man. And many hours too had Gandalf and Elrond listened to her. She would sit on the Elf Lord's lap, he fingers playing with the edge of his robes or a new toy provided for her childlike amusement as words tumbled from her lips in two languages, a confusing mix of childish gabble and pronouncements. He remembered one in particular had disturbed the Elf Lord.

"And thou shalt not be Lord in thine own house for thy child will not bear thy censure or entreaty and thou shalt know a bitter-sweet sorrow!" she had rebuked him when he had remonstrated with her over her using his precious books to build a 'house' for her favourite doll.

Gandalf chuckled to himself as she came closer, she was guiding her horse with her knees, her hands holding her bloody sword across the pommel of her saddle as she rode. She frowned a moment at his chuckle. So out of place upon the bloody causeway which so recently had been a battlefield.

"Should I ask what so amuses you Gandalf? Or would that be folly?" she asked, and her tone was as arch and prim as it had been when she was a child and had made that remark to Elrond who had been unsure if this was one of her insights or simply the remarks of a thoroughly annoyed child with a vocabulary to match any great Lord. Such trouble it had caused as Elrond tried to get her to repeat her warning or say which of his children it referred to. But as usual she had forgot ever having said it and would not be distracted from her childish umbrage! He chuckled again, louder and more joyous.

This time Anária almost smiled as she shook her head, her saddened eyes now that he saw them so close to him were no longer those eyes of innocent indignation. He looked into them and he felt his smile fade.

"Just thinking of the past," he said softly and he saw her smile fuller, her thoughts clearly running back to those days of joy she had spent in Imladris. "and of how little girls can cause great distress to the mighty and the powerful!" she smiled and looked a little abashed

"Was I really so distressing?" she sounded almost wistful.

"Oh yes," he replied, as they made their way up the causeway. He looked around at the devastation, "but a far greater distress you have caused to the enemies of Rohan this past night I believe if what the brief report Aragorn gave me is true!" she was not smiling now, she was silent, looking around her self.

"I wish I did not have to be a distress to anyone Gandalf. If I had known all that I would find in the south I am unsure whether I would have rushed forwards with open arms or crawled into the darkest corner of Imladris and wept…" she was talking almost to herself. She looked around at him, her eyes coming into focus suddenly, it was nearly noon and in the golden sunshine her face suddenly seemed very young and wan. "Mithrandir…" She paused, nervously licking her lips.

"There are things… I need to discuss with you, things I need to say. But-" she was cut off by an Elven warrior appearing at her ankle.

"Lady Anária!" the Elf was speaking urgently in his own tongue, obviously in distress. "Please, you must come! He is asking for you!" Anária's face became very pale and contorted by pain and grief and anew Gandalf felt a wave of sorrow that such evil times had come, it seemed to him a long time ago that he had comforted Frodo, and as with the Hobbits it seemed to him a tragedy that such a young person had to face such evil. She slid from her horse immediately.

"Gandalf – will you come with me?" she asked.

"Do you have need of me?" She looked distressed so he dismounted as well, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, he was wounded badly but… I don't know!" Gandalf looked into her pale eyes, for a moment he thought she was speaking of her brother but now he was not sure. The girl-child was gone, it was a woman who stood before him, her eyes beseeching his assistance and a suspicion began in his mind.

"Then we should hurry!" he said gravely and without any response she turned away, the Elf was standing on the bottom of the steps that led to the Keep's hall and when he saw her turn to follow him he immediately raced up the stairs. He lead them through the hall and into an adjacent room, meant to house Lordly persons who might need accommodation in the Keep. The room was only palely lit by sunlight that came through a high narrow window, several braziers and torches gave a smoky ruddy glow and Gandalf followed Anária with misgivings. In the confined space stood several Elves, clustered around a pallet in the corner. As Anária moved closer they all stood back respectfully as she knelt by the pallet.

Gandalf looked over her shoulder. He recognised a guardian of Lothlórien, one who he had seen briefly during his recent visit. He had been summoned to council by Celeborn to meet with Gandalf. The last Gandalf had seen of him was his leading a patrol towards the southern borders. He had a strange name for an Elf,a human name… Now what was it, Gandalf was wondering to himself as the Elf stirred on the pallet, his eyes opening to look up at Anária.

"Anária…" Gandalf felt his bushy eyebrows raise right up towards his hair at the soft caress implied in that single word.

"Haldir. Haldir it will be alright, Gandalf is here." He heard a return of the caress and more, a promise, a remonstrance in her words, and then she was turning her pale eyes on him, in the darkness they were shining with hope. He motioned with his head for her to move and for the next hour Gandalf did nothing else but tend the Elf Lord's wounds, assisted by Anária's pale hands that sometimes shook and sometimes seemed firm and resolute.

A nasty infection would have arisen in the wound but Gandalf prepared the proper poultice and then bandages were found and his wounds were bound. And then Gandalf made a tisane of yet more herbs that would help restore his strength. And then one of the Elves had handed him a flask with a tiny bit of miruvor remaining in the bottom and Haldir drank that and some cool sweet water that remained in a flask that had come all the way from the streams of Lothlórien and his eyes brightened and his skin seemed less pale and Gandalf was satisfied.

Haldir let them attend to his wounds, sometimes almost drifting to sleep and at other times watching his beloved through hooded eyes. At times she looked resolute and firm, as strong and sure as she had been before the dawn, and at others she bit her lip and tears shone in her eyes. But all the time she avoided his eyes until Gandalf said he was satisfied that there was no danger to Haldir now and that all he would need was rest, and it would be best to commence that rest "- right at this moment, unless there is something pressing that needs doing."

"There is." Said Haldir softly. He motioned to one of his wardens, Doronion had been one of those ordered to pull her from the wall the night before.

"Make sure all the others wounds are properly attended to, then they must all rest for today. Tomorrow we must find all those who have fallen and make them ready. They will need proper burial." Gandalf was looking down on him, those eyes watching him in a way that made him think he heard all the words Haldir was not saying. Haldir turned his head. Anária looked very pale and weary, and her face was still caked with blood. He motioned towards her wordlessly and he knew that as Doronion understood that silent order so too did Gandalf and the wizard's eyes were fathomless as he looked between them.

"Well I must go, for doubtless there is great turmoil without and sooner or later someone will be sent to find me when my input is needed in some decision making." He then stepped close to Anária, and had Haldir not had the hearing of his people he would not have heard those soft words whispered next to her ear. "And when you have been taken care of to your Lord's standards we must speak as you said we must, for strange things are happening beyond any that could have been supposed." And then Gandalf looked back at him one more time, a contemplative look with a hint of sorrow and then he was gone, not that Haldir cared for much longer as he succumbed to the weariness of his body as he watched Doronion help Anária to a chair and bid her sit while he washed her face and cleaned the gash on her forehead. And as he lay their contenement stole over him and he slipped into a dream...

* * *

Anária awoke after darkness had fallen upon Helm's Deep. She had slept away the afternoon and part of the evening on a small pallet in a small stone room off the hall, nearby to Haldir's. She felt sleepy still but she forced herself to her feet. Before she had been allowed to rest she had been taken to this room somewhere the Elves had found enough water and wine to clean her wound, and for to be able to cleanse days of travel dust and the grime of the battle from her skin. One of the Elves had found the spare clothing that had been packed and she was able to sleep in cleaner silks and now she had a fairly clean dress to wear. It seemed her clothing carried in it something of the sweetness of Lórien for she had instantly felt more rested as she slipped on the rich green gown with its layers and intricate Elven adornments.

She ran her fingers through her dark hair, she had combed it with her fingers and after washing the grime from it and now it fell in haphazard curls but she had not the inclination to make it more suitable. She had only two thoughts in her mind. To see how Haldir's recovery progressed; and then seek out Gandalf as he had requested.

On silent feet she slipped from the room and made for the door to Haldir's room. She opened it and peered inside. Moonlight came almost directly through one of the high windows, it fell on the sleeping face of Haldir. She smiled slightly. Even by the pale moonlight she could see he was resting peacefully. As she made to close the door his eyes flickered open. He turned his face, it fell into shadow but she knew he watched her. She slipped inside and moved to his side, she knelt. In all but silence she helped him sip some water. His eyes were still tired and after only a few minutes the drooped shut again.

She rocked back on her heels, considering his strong face for a long moment. In her minds eye she saw him again in Lórien, tall and fair, a Lord amongst Elves, older than she could ever have imagined. There was so much she did not know – how then did she know she loved him? Was it possible to feel all that she felt after so short a time? She needed to speak with others, older and wiser who could advise her. She had never considered much matters of the heart. She had loved, she loved her parents even though she barely ever saw them, she loved her brother, she loved Aragorn her Chieftain and Lord Elrond and Gandalf as well. Amongst the Elves and Rangers she knew many whom she adored, but never this. This overwhelming feeling of being swept away by an emotion that did not care at all whether the object of its affection was older than almost anyone she had met, or was an eternal Elf or any other obstacle in its path.

She sighed. As quietly as she could she rose and left the room.

Quietly she slipped into the hall where she paused in a dark shadow. A group of men had gathered around a makeshift feasting pit in the centre of the hall. A steel trapdoor had been moved and a fire pit with a spit had been established. But what had made her pause was the words being spoken by the clamour of voices.

"-they say she's an Elf Queen-" on man said only to be cut off by another.

"Ha! She's as human as you or I!" another man called. "But she's as fey as the Elves I reckon, and more alike to them than us."

"I tell you: she is not of men, she is one of them!" The first man argued. A chorus of voices raised in agreement and derision.

"They say she is Aragorn's betrothed!" one man told another, but a man opposite him snorted derisively, "Nay, she is his sister!" another told his cousin excitedly "-and she rules the Elves far away to the North, she is Great Queen they say!"

"Hush!"

* * *

Eomer shook his head half in amusement, half in exasperation as his men quarrelled with some of the warriors who had arrived at Helm's Deep with Theoden King. They were casting around theories and rumours. He had seen the woman they spoke of, but his Uncle had spoken not of her when they had spoke. Although Aragorn he noticed had asked Gandalf how she fared when Gandalf had met them for counsel, but after those few words they had spoken in a tongue he did not know and there conversation had been grim in tone.

He thought of the figure he had seen that morning. The sunlight had shone white off her blade and in the distance he had seen the great white horse cleave its way before the King's, and as the sword of the silver mailed figure had slashed here and there he had never guessed it could be a woman. Shieldmaiden's were one thing, but a Warrior Queen from the north was another. A woman taking up a sword to defend hearth and child was one thing but a fully armed woman charging into the midst of battle was a thing not known amongst the Rohirrim. Nor had he heard of it in other lands.

But his thoughts were troubled by the excited arguments and shouting around him.

"Hush! Enough!" he shouted, standing up. The men settled down. He shook his head and sat back down. "Whether 'they say' she be Elf or Witch or some other creature come stalking out of legend I care not." He looked around. "And nor should any of you, for I have heard more than one of you tell of her guarding your escape with a flaming sword." There was some muttering, and an occasional derisive snort as those who had not been at Helm's Deep before the dawn considered the idea of a woman guarding their retreat rather embarrassing for their comrades.

"And if by her actions she may have saved the life of a man of Rohan I'll have no ill spoke against her!" he warned.

"But Eomer, even you have said in the past the battlefield is no place for a woman – I have heard you say it to your own sister, and she a shieldmaiden!" Eomer acknowledged that with a nod. He didn't consider it proper, but his words still stood. Slowly the conversation turned to other matters and having eaten his fill Eomer rose to find his bed when he saw a figure lurking in the shadows at the back of the hall. As though sensing his scrutiny the figure moved forwards towards the firelight.

It was a tall, pale young woman with wild black curls gowned in a dress Eowyn would never have worn except to great feasting so fine was it, but unlike anything he had seen a woman wear. Eomer stood very still. There was a swollen red gash upon her forehead and he could see she was not of Rohan, she had a strange look upon her face and he realised he knew who she was. The stranger inclined her head and Eomer unthinkingly bowed in response, the sort of bow he would only have given his king it was so deep. Seeing him some of his men stood to see who he bowed to and they almost all hushed as they saw her standing there.

She moved forwards and Eomer noticed her feet were bare under the long green dress, they were pale and silent on the flagstones.

"Can we help you My Lady?" he asked courteously. She was watching him with large eyes; she looked around the group encircling the fire. Then she returned her eyes to Eomer, still silent. Eomer felt uneasy as she came closer, the men were right; there was something strange about her. But then she smiled.

"You can. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I might find Gandalf and Aragorn?" Eomer looked around, the last he had seen them they had been speaking quietly on the wall. He looked around to see if anyone had any more recent news and then quietly informed her. With a slight smile and a bow she moved past him.

"My Lady?" she paused and turned to look at him.

"You have no shoes…" she looked down, she seemed almost surprised. But then she smiled.

"Ah well, I never much cared for them as a child." She said with a smile, turning on her heel and disappearing into the darkness. Eomer stood for along moment, frowning at the place where she had disappeared. She had been far more disconcerting than he could have imagined.

* * *

Quietly Anária made her way down the steps outside, the bodies had long since been cleared from within the Hornberg. Torches had been set upon the walls and guards watched over the silent valley which was shrouded in mist. She made her way up a set of stairs to the wall, up at the apex of the Hornburg she saw two figures, blowing pale smoke rings into the dark air. Carefully she made her way up the dark stone steps. Both of them turned to watch her approach. Aragorn looked greatly troubled, Gandalf however smiled at her, his eyes twinkling in the light of his pipe.

"How are you feeling?" asked Aragorn, his voice concerned. She touched a finger to her forehead.

"I'm feeling well, considering." He nodded.

"Can you ride?" he asked, moving to look out over the valley below, it was shrouded in a strange mist that to her looked unnatural. She looked at Gandalf but his eyes were hooded as he puffed on his pipe, with an occasional cough.

"I can." She replied softly, feeling as though the words meant more than they could possibly mean. Gandalf looked up at her, meeting her eyes.

"Where are we going?"

"Isengard, as soon as it is light." Aragorn said quietly, his voice firm but low. Gandalf sighed, Aragorn was still staring down at the valley below, strange rustling and sighing was upon the breeze. She tilted her head, it was as of many leaves and branches moving in a great wind, but there was no wind. She thought of the great forest far below and smiled. What had seemed wild and terrifying to the others had not scared her. Many muttered and whispered amongst the Riders of the Mark against such 'witchery' and 'bedevilment' but she saw no evil in the trees. Rather to her they held a fascination, they were beautiful in their own way. She knew her sentiment was more akin to the Elves than to men and that thought gave her pause when she thought of the words spoken around the fire.

"_she's as fey as the Elves I reckon, and more alike to them than us."_

She looked up at Gandalf. She needed to speak of it now, but she could not find the words. He was watching her, a contemplative look upon countenance, his lips pursed over his pipe. She looked into that lined face she had known so well as a child, his hair was white now and his beard less wild but it was still Gandalf. His blue eyes still had a deepness to them, and a sparkle. Like sunlight in deep water his mirth seemed always just there, beneath the surface.

At that moment he leaned down towards her, his eyes looking deeply into hers.

"The path to Isengard may not lead back to the Golden Wood Anária." His words were soft, she shivered and looked away, casting her eyes up into the night sky, high above the stars were bright, but she felt it was a momentary light, it could be covered by darkness at any moment.

"I understand Gandalf, but I do believe this will not be the end, and one day, soon, I will go north again." Aragorn turned to look at her, his eyes shadowed by doubt. She smiled at him, wishing she could show him certain she was that hope was not lost. "Perhaps when the sun is in the sky and the flowers are blooming in the fields." Gandalf smiled at her.

"Perhaps… But before then we have much to do!" Anária nodded. She too had things to do before she could depart, and foremost amongst them was speaking to her betrothed…

* * *

~ Please leave me a review! ~


	12. Epilogue: In Dreams

Daughter of Númenor

Synopsis: A ranger seeks her destiny as the rising dark of Mordor threatens her world, and those she cares for. Set During FOTR/TTT. Movie/Book/AU.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story! Sadly though this is the end of Daughter of Númenor. This is the natural place to break the story up; the next story will be more about Anária and less about Haldir, although obviously she will think about him quite a lot.

I hope you will read it; it will be called 'Into the Starless Night'.

Thank you again, and please leave me a review!

Disclaimer: JRR and New Line own all rights. Please don't take my story down or anything nasty!

* * *

Epilogue: In Dreams

* * *

Haldir stood upon the battlements of Helm's Deep. Most of the Rohirrim would be leaving before the sun reached its zenith but in the cool dawn only a small party was making its way down the valley. At their rear rode a dingle rider cloaked in a great scarlet cloak that fluttered aside in the strong cold breeze to show sparkling silver armour. Nearby the majority of the remaining Elven warriors, some fifteen of his finest Warden's stood in silence, not one of them unscathed from the battle. Below several more were still laid out, their grave wounds tended by the women of Rohan who had remained behind to tend the many wounded. Their dead the men of Rohan had agreed to help bury in their way, a mound would be erected under which the Elven Warden's would be able to sleep beneath starlight and sunlight, an eternal reminder of their sacrifice.

As soon as his Warden's were well enough they would begin their northward journey to their home in the north, the King of Rohan had spared them enough horses and provisions for their journey but his heart was not it. He was still weak though from his wounds and no aid would he be in his condition. It was best to return north but it sapped his hope and will to think he could not join his Lady as she made her way to the land of her ancestors, in Gondor.

"When the cold of winter comes,

Starless night will cover day.

In the veiling of the sun;

We will walk in bitter rain.

But in dreams ~

I can hear your name

And in dreams ~

We will meet again!"

As though she could hear him the red mantled figure paused far below at the break in the wall of the outer defences. He looked down and his eyes could make out the line of her jaw, and the softness of her lips as she looked back at him. She raised a hand and his Elven eyesight saw her lips move in a farewell stolen away by the wind and distance, though he had already said farewell hee raised his own arm, even though it pulled at his wound that was still bound tightly.

As Haldir lowered his arm but he stayed where he was long after the sun had reached it zenith and the red cloak had long since faded into the distance. He would see her again, he told himself. He would…

* * *

~ Please leave me a review! ~


End file.
